Crawling Out of the Darkness
by CJane
Summary: Set in Season 3, with Captain Hudson in command of the seaQuest. Lucas and Tim O'Neill centered with a smattering of several other characters.
1. Prologue

**Crawling Out of the Darkness**

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own _seaQuest_ or any of the characters. _

_**Author's Notes: **__The dates and timing might be a little off. The only important detail to note is that the story takes place after _Weapons of War_ and during the first full year that _seaQuest _was under Hudson's command (Season 3)_. _This story was the product of the 2009 NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing) Challenge. November 12, 2009 marked the 6__th__ anniversary of Jonathan Brandis' death, and I only thought it fitting to write a _seaQuest_, Lucas-centered story for this challenge during that month._

**Prologue**

Hands locked behind his back, the man stood staring out the large bay window, Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata playing softly in the background. A less perceptive person would conclude that he was merely admiring the spectacular view - the lush green grounds which extended for acres and the meticulously kept gardens. Upon closer scrutiny, those who knew the man well would note the tightness in his shoulders, the wringing of his hands and the fact that his eyes were not focused on anything further than his inner musings.

"Sir, you wanted to see me?"

The man turned slowly and offered a brief nod to the new arrival. He moved towards his desk, maintaining a similar posture to the one he'd adopted at the window. As he reached the desk chair, he deliberately trailed his hand against the smooth, expensive leather backrest. He did not offer his visitor a seat.

"General, they've agreed to our request. The location and participants have been approved by both parties. We are set to move forward with our plans. You have one week to finalize our plans and to brief the contractor. I expect all details will be taken care of accordingly. I will not tolerate failure. Understood?"

"Yes Sir." The General knew well enough not to question the man in front of him. He was a well-decorated Navy officer and he hadn't come into this position by questioning those above him.

"Dismissed."

With a sharp salute, the General turned and left the room.

President Alexander Bourne turned back to the window and assumed his prior position – a ghost of a smile creeping across his face. If everything went as smoothly as he anticipated, the Macronesian Alliance would be one step closer to controlling the majority of the World's resources: both natural and intellectual.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_July 3, 2032 _

_Off the coast of Florida, New Cape Quest_

From shore, the _seaQuest_ looked every bit as magnificent as the laudatory editorials described the year she set off on her maiden voyage. The sleek dark body of the man-made leviathan was prominently displayed above the surface of the water, despite the fact that the majority was well hidden from view – right beneath the calm, clear water of the Atlantic Ocean. The twinkling of lights gave the impression that this was another beautiful marine vessel; obscuring the reality that she was truly the best weapon the United Earth Oceans Organization had to offer for the protection of their citizens. Long gone were the days of _seaQuest_'s insatiable thirst for research and exploration. She was now, first and foremost, the most powerful and feared boat in the UEO Navy, and undeniably manned by the best crew they had to offer. The question on everyone's mind was the same. Were the _seaQuest_ and her crew good enough to protect the allied confederations and their citizens against the constant threat from the Macronesian Alliance, and more recently, the perceived threat of the Chaodai?

At that moment in time, the civilians on shore could look past unpleasant truth of a world on the brink of war, and instead see what they wanted: an unsurpassed elegance.

Upon closer inspection, those same civilians may have noticed the constant stream of launches shuttling between the shore and the stationary beast. Starting before dawn, shortly after the _seaQuest_ successfully docked, the boat was being fed the necessary supplies – food, materials, and equipment – to keep her at sea for an extended length of time. The permanent crew had yet to step foot on dry land, but it was just a matter of time before the mass exodus began.

The city of New Cape Quest had been humming for days, ever since news of _seaQuest_'s imminent arrival became known. Local merchants, restaurants and bars were always pleased with the arrival of the crew. They always seemed to draw the locals as well as people willing to travel longer distances to see the boat docked a short distance from shore. With the arrival of the _seaQuest_ coinciding with the long holiday weekend, anticipation and excitement was at a new height.

***

The excitement of the _seaQuest_ crew was tangible. It had been months since they'd last docked in their homeport, and most were eager to see friends and family. Vidlinks and hologram messages could not compare to being able to wrap arms around a brother, parent, lover. Thanks to a complicated and comprehensive juggling of schedules, accommodations and transport vehicles, almost all of the 248 crew members would have the opportunity to spend at least one night on shore for leave. A rare - and much coveted - reward for months of grueling work protecting UEO interests at a time when they remained on the precipice of a world on the brink of war.

The young ensign stepped out of the supply office with his newly acquired uniforms. Luckily for him, his order had arrived on one of the first supply launches to reach the boat after they'd docked before dawn. The hallways were bustling with activity – more so than on an average day at sea. It appeared as though most of the crew not on duty were either too excited to sleep, or were hoping to get off the boat sooner than their scheduled launch times.

Lucas slung the new uniforms over his shoulder as he hurried down the hall toward the quarters he shared with Tony Piccolo. He was running a little late, but if he didn't stop along the way, he'd have enough time to change clothes before reporting for Bridge duty. Even if he were a few minutes late, it would be worth enduring Hudson's disapproving look to finally wear some pants that did not resemble "floods." Lucas had been the butt of more than his fair share of jokes lately, thanks to a belated growth spurt. Seriously, what 29 year old suddenly grows 2 inches?

He sighed inwardly as he reached the cabin door. In reality, he didn't see himself as nearing 30, but neither could he picture himself as a teenager. His intelligence, and responsibilities at a young age, had matured him well beyond his years, but those missing ten years had robbed him of the experience he needed to feel like the man his birth certificate claimed him to be.

In the years the _seaQuest_ crew had been gone, Lucas' Node 3 friends had transitioned from the recklessness of youth to become responsible and respected scientists. Shortly after returning, Lucas had managed to research his best friends with the hopes of reconnecting. After the realization that time had only stood still for a small group of them, Lucas had given up the thought of contacting them. This had not stopped him from finding out what Nick, and Julianna in particular, had been up to for the past ten years. Nick had graduated from hacking into other peoples' secure systems, to designing his own. He'd become a highly sought-after consultant in the field of computer science and commanded a high price for his expertise. Julianna had managed to make a name for herself in academia, and was currently a tenured professor at MIT.

Lucas, on the other hand, felt like a Peter Pan of sorts - the boy that never grew up. When he'd learned of his friends' success, he was assaulted with emotions. He was incredibly proud of what they'd accomplished, but he couldn't help but feel jealous. In his youth, he'd been smug and cocky in the knowledge that he was one of the best hackers out there. He was brilliant, boasted an incredibly high IQ, and he couldn't wait to prove to the world what he could do. He had just assumed that he would become as successful – or even more so – than Nick and Julianna and would have done great things by the time he turned 30.

Instead, Lucas found himself the inventor of the failed vocorder, and its measly 125-word vocabulary, and incredibly out of touch with most technology developed in the past decade. He felt like a washed-up has-been still trying to find his place in the world. With this realization, he found it much easier to hide on _seaQuest_, with friends who were going through the similar shock of re-acclimating to a changed world, than attempt to reconnect with people who'd moved on with their lives. Shaking his head, Lucas reached for the door handle. It wasn't as though they'd tried to contact him either. No, it was better if he just held onto some of the best memories of his teenage years and the friendships he had valued.

Before he'd opened the cabin door more than a crack, he could hear the heavy beat of Piccolo's latest favorite band. Something reminiscent of the big hair bands of the 1980's – an era Lucas was very glad not to have been a part of. Piccolo was in the midst of tossing random pieces of clothing into an overnight bag, while shaking his head in time to the music. It was obvious from the hideous shirt he was wearing, that Tony was off duty and had already been granted permission for shore leave.

"Luke!" Tony turned, a huge grin plastered across his face.

"Hey, Tony." Lucas' response was flat, the complete opposite of the giddy excitement being exuded by his bunkmate. Walking to his locker, he hung the new khaki uniform inside and started to change into the blue coveralls.

"What's your problem, man? You should be excited. Four days of shore leave over the 4th of July weekend. What could be better? Tony grabbed a pair of socks off his bunk and threw them at Lucas before reaching out to turn the music down.

"How about actually getting off the boat?" Lucas picked up the ball of socks that had fallen at his feet and lobbed them back at Piccolo.

"What? You're kidding, right?" Tony stopped moving, the grin fading from his face. "I saw the shore leave roster, Lucas. Your name was right there with mine."

"Yeah, well they removed it. Turns out that someone thought this four day station outside of UEO headquarters was the perfect opportunity to install some upgrades to the weapons and communications systems. Tim and I had our leave revoked and we'll be part of the skeleton crew making sure that the upgrades go smoothly. Wouldn't want to waste this golden opportunity now, would we?"

Lucas made little attempt to hide the sarcasm in his response. This was not the first time he'd had his shore leave revoked, but this one stung a bit more than usual. He'd actually been looking forward to a little time off, even though he knew that with Piccolo in charge of the upworld plans, it was bound to be filled with characteristically sordid debauchery with unforeseeable consequences. In other words, he was going to be missing a good time. Again.

"You're joking, right?"

"I wish."

As he finished zipping the front of his new coveralls, he slammed his locker closed. Lucas realized that if he was going to spend the next 8 hours on the bridge with Captain Hudson, he needed to keep his frustration in check. He'd spent the better part of the past nine months learning how to control his emotions and perfecting his poker face. Most of the time, he was pretty certain that the captain was testing him and watching for a reaction. Revoking his shore leave was another opportunity to see if he would crack. He'd had plenty of opportunity to be scrutinized lately and he really didn't need another reprimand for not behaving as an ensign in the UEO Navy should. With that thought, Lucas inwardly cringed.

"Maybe you'll finish up early and make the last shuttle." Tony's incredulous expression betrayed him. They both knew there was no chance Lucas was going to make it to shore in the next four days.

"Yeah. Maybe." Lucas unconsciously pushed his long hair away from his face and behind his ears, then smoothed the front of his uniform. With a quick glance at his watch, he realized he was cutting it very close. "I gotta go. Have fun, Tony."

"Later, Lucas"

As he bound up the steps and out of the cabin, Lucas heard Piccolo turn the volume back up on the stereo. Shaking his head, he ran down the deck towards the stairs, which would ultimately lead him to the Maglev and the bridge.

***

Lucas slipped through the clamshell doors and onto the bridge with seconds to spare. It was practically a ghost town – most staff already dismissed and packing for their extended overnight shore leave.

The brightly lit panels on either side of the command chair and moon navigation sphere stood unmanned and most workstations were left empty. Lucas was relieved to see that Captain Hudson had yet to arrive; Lieutenant Henderson instead was sitting in the command chair as she had all third shift.

He took the headset from the helmswoman he was replacing and slid into his usual seat behind his assigned console, as he did, O'Neill turned and gave him a quick nod. The look on Tim's face said it all. He too, was feeling the same way about their timely assignment. Lucas gave him a thin smile in return before slipping the headset on and settling into the task of becoming familiar with the readings in front of him.

Until the go ahead to start the systems upgrade came through, there wasn't much to keep their minds from wandering while on duty. Lucas and Tim were used to being assigned to the skeleton bridge crew by now, being the most frequently assigned the post while other staff enjoyed time off, and had devised a system of communicating discretely during their "down" time. It wasn't long before both of them had switched their headsets to the pre-determined frequency in order to speak to each other.

"Fancy seeing you here," Tim's quiet voice broke the silence.

Lucas looked up towards the Communications officer, who didn't even attempt to hide the fact that he was speaking directly to Lucas. With Lonnie taking command of the bridge, they didn't have to worry as much about professionalism and protocol.

He lost the battle to contain a snort of disgust. "I'd be more surprised if we actually ever made it onto shore, one of these days."

"Tim, Lucas…" Lonnie's voice piped into their headsets and she gave them each a sympathetic look. "You both know that we need you for this upgrade. With the current political situation, we don't often have the opportunity to dock off New Cape Quest.

"Yeah, then why does it feel like we are being punished?" Tim voiced what they both were thinking.

"Think of it more along the lines of being such valuable crew members that your presence is essential for the smooth operation of the UEO's flagship." Lonnie gave Tim a quick wink in response.

"Said by someone who's actually been able to enjoy the natural sunlight at some point in the past nine months," Lucas grumbled under his breath.

Lonnie opened her mouth to respond, but before she was able to get a word out, Hudson strolled onto the Bridge. She immediately closed her mouth and stood to attention. Both Lucas and Tim sat a little straighter in their seats, their attention moving back to their assigned consoles.

The minor adjustments of his crew's demeanor were not lost on Captain Hudson and Lucas noticed as the man smiled discretely. The captain ran a tight ship and he expected his officers to be every bit as professional as was expected of the UEO's flagship crew. Lucas missed the more lax environment that _seaQuest_ boasted under Captain Bridger's tenure. While the circumstances now were vastly different – the boat's primary mission was one of research and exploration back then – he missed the camaraderie of the crew, which was evident even on the bridge when tension ran high.

"At ease, Lieutenant. Current status? " Captain Hudson stood next to the command chair, his hands resting loosely behind his back. He was obviously very comfortable in his position as captain of this boat and he appeared to be in a generally good mood this morning.

Lucas tried to keep his head down and his eyes on the graphs and thermal images that were constantly changing on the monitor directly in front of him, but he couldn't help himself from glancing up as Lonnie began her status update. He was perfectly capable of paying attention to multiple factors, watching for unexpected anomalies, while at sea. With _seaQuest_ docked, there weren't as many outputs to track.

Lucas knew that Tim was equally as bored monitoring current internal and external communications. Knowing the Comms Chief, he'd probably already started scanning for any unexpected pings or foreign frequencies. Tim O'Neill may not have been on the short list of officers, who would be fast-tracked for promotion under Hudson, but he was good at his job and there was no denying that he was an asset to the boat.

"Sir, all supply runs are expected to be complete by 0900 hours. They are currently ahead of schedule. The highest priority equipment has already come aboard and a four-man Engineering team has started some of the maintenance work we have had on the books for weeks. Launches shuttling crew to shore will commence at 1000 hours."

"How many will remain on board?" Hudson glanced at the practically empty Bridge. It was rare to see the large space so empty.

"Eight, Sir. In addition to Commander Ford, O'Neill and Wolenczak, there will be four Engineers on duty at all times, as well as one medic. A larger team has been placed "on call" if we encounter any problems."

"Thank you, Henderson. I imagine you have some packing to do. You're dismissed."

"Yes, Sir." Lonnie turned to leave, visibly relieved to have completed her scheduled bridge shift. Before she slipped through the doors, she locked eyes with Lucas, giving him a sympathetic smile and a quick wave.

"Mr. O'Neill, Mr. Wolenczak," the Captain addressed the two remaining officers. "I take it you are both ready to start installing the upgrades. UEO technical staff have assured me that this will not take longer than the length of time we are set to remain in port." Hudson turned to address Lucas directly. "As the former Chief Computer Analyst, I'm leaving you in charge of getting this complete before we ship out. Understood?"

"Yes Sir."

Lucas set his jaw and started an internal list of all the equipment he'd need and the order in which they'd need to tackle the individual consoles and panels. For the most part, the task was simple; nothing more than uploading new data, restarting each computer, and then testing them both individually and as a linked system. At most, it was going to be slow and boring. The only consolation was that these upgrades were restricted to just two of _seaQuest_'s complex computer systems. It could be far worse. They could be tackling all of them. From experience, Lucas knew that even just restricting their modifications to two discrete areas, a four-day window would be tight.

Tim had plenty of experience with previous upgrades and software reinstallation, so Lucas knew he would be more than qualified to get the process moving. If Lucas could get through the first few steps, Tim could follow up with the testing phase. They could maximize efficiency by working in a staggered pattern, rather than just dividing the responsibility between specific stations.

Lucas was so engrossed in his meticulous planning, that he did not notice the bemused look so evident across Hudson's face. Neither did he notice the appearance of Commander Ford on the bridge.

***

Hours later, Lucas and Tim were immersed in their respective assignments and practically oblivious to the eerie stillness the boat had adopted. The majority of the crew was already on land – enjoying their time off – and the skeleton crew was scattered around the decks taking care of the tasks needed to keep the _seaQuest_ in top form. Even docked at port, system diagnostics were run, and minor adjustments were made the heavy machinery in the bilge. A boat this size, despite the sophistication of her computer system and efficient engineering, required constant maintenance.

_The seaQuest_ continued to emit a constant humming, despite her stationary position off of New Cape Quest. Both Lucas and Tim were oblivious to this undercurrent of noise, having been exposed to it for such a long time. The humming was a part of the boat; something that made the inanimate object seem that much more alive. Occasionally, Lucas or Tim would lift their head and utter a string of curses, or a grumble of frustration. But mostly, the bridge remained silent, with the exception of the blips and beeps that came from the individual computers being restarted.

As the Executive Officer, Jonathan Ford had been responsible for drawing up the leave roster for all 248 members of the crew. He prided himself in keeping aware of the officers on board and any possible issues that may arise and have a negative effect on the crew. As one of the original officers onboard when Lucas was first assigned to the boat, Ford had developed a bit of a soft spot for the teenager. Hell, they all had. He had been particularly surprised, and concerned, when he'd heard that Lucas had enlisted in the UEO Navy.

He never thought the undisciplined computer hacker would make a good soldier. Lucas was at times arrogant and obnoxious, and he was adept at thinking along the lines that others did not. He was also incredibly comfortable questioning authority. The role of a good soldier was the opposite, to respect the chain of command and to not question one's superior officers.

At first, Ford had been acutely aware of how Captain Hudson perceived Lucas. It was well known amongst the crew that Lucas and Bridger had formed a close bond, similar to that between a father and son. Under no circumstances could Hudson's commanding style be confused with Nathan Bridger's. The current captain had made it painfully clear that his commands were to be followed and that each officer on board was to behave with the utmost professionalism expected of them. Where Bridger would often call them by their first names, Hudson was less inclined. In current times, with the "conflict" between the allied confederations and Macronesia increasing in tension, the more militaristic approach to commanding the _seaQuest_ seemed more appropriate.

Hudson had, at an earlier time, admitted to being overtly domineering and heavy-handed with the original crew, but his intentions were understandable. He needed their focus and their respect and in return he gave them his. Ford wasn't sure how much of this Lucas had first understood in the days following Bridger's second retirement. However, as time had passed, they had all been rather surprised at how easily the new ensign had acclimated to his position within the Navy and the level of discipline he had displayed.

Despite the lack of weapons and tactical training, Lucas had also proven to be a quick study on both subjects and had handled himself on many a mission as well as any formally trained soldier could. This too had surprised Ford and the late Lieutenant Brody. As a result, both he and Brody had provided Lucas with as many pointers as they could. Off duty, of course.

Commander Ford's concern for the crew extended beyond Ensign Wolenczak and included the Chief Communications Officer as well. He'd been painfully aware of how little shore leave both officers had been granted in the past few months, compared to the rest of the crew, and was concerned about their lack of adequate breaks from their posts. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time Lucas had been granted shore leave since enlisting. Ford had made a point to put both Lucas and Tim on the roster for the full four days, before the orders from HQ had come in. Because Lucas was the most qualified to supervise the computer system upgrades, Ford reluctantly had to revoke his leave. Captain Hudson had been responsible for enlisting O'Neill's support for the assignment, and he could only presume it was part of the ongoing punishment for Tim's behavior during the Chaodai "incident."

Brought out of his train of thought by a sudden movement, Ford turned his attention back to the present. O'Neill had practically run from the sensor panel on one side of the Bridge back to Communications. He quickly assumed his position in front of the switches and adjusted the headset against his ears.

"Commander Ford. We have a call coming in for you and Captain Hudson from Secretary General McGath. He says it's urgent." Tim turned to face him, waiting for a response.

"Put it on the main screen, Lieutenant O'Neill."

"Sir, he's requested the call be made confidential and on a secure line."

Ford's momentary pause was the only evidence that this was an unexpected request. That brief hesitation, however, was enough for both Lucas and Tim to take note.

"Notify the captain and have the call patched through to the Ward Room." Commander Ford stood to leave. Before he did, he looked back over his shoulder at the two men and nodded to Tim. "You have the Bridge, Lieutenant O'Neill."

"Yes, Sir."

Tim raised his right hand to the earpiece, his voice louder than usual in the empty space, and made the notifications to both Hudson and McGath. With the flick of a few switches, the call was routed to the Ward Room.

Left alone, Tim and Lucas exchanged a knowing look.

"This can't be good news."

"It's probably nothing. Maybe a request from some bigwig or highly decorated politician for a tour of _seaQuest_. You know, show her off. It's been known to happen in the past." Lucas did not really believe the words he was saying.

"Not on a secure link."

"You're right. This can't be good."

An hour passed before Captain Hudson and Commander Ford returned to the bridge. The grim look on both of their faces said more than words could describe. They had just heard some unpleasant news and _seaQuest_'s assistance was needed somewhere in the world _other_ than off the coast of Florida.

"Mr. Wolenczak, are we at a point where we can put a halt on these upgrades for the unforeseeable future?"

"Yes, sir. If we can just finish the two we are currently working on, we can postpone the rest of the bridge computers. We haven't touched any of the weapons systems yet."

"Fine." The Captain then turned to address O'Neill. "Mr. O'Neill, please recall all senior officers, all essential crew, and Warrant Officer Piccolo. Inform them of a mandatory meeting in the Ward Room at 2000 hours. All non-essential personnel will have their extended shore leave revoked. They are to be back onboard by 0600 hours tomorrow." He took a few steps towards the door before stopping. "Oh, and Mr. Wolenczak."

"Yes, sir?"

"Call the dolphin back in. I hear he's been swimming somewhere nearby." With that, the captain left the bridge.

Lucas looked questioningly at the commander, who just shook his head in response. Both heard the mumbled comment from Tim as he set about recalling all specified crew; most of who probably already had a few beers in them by now.

"Definitely not good."


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's notes: All disclaimers continue to be the same. I just wanted to thank all of you who have been reading and leaving feedback. It is a far larger number of people than I expected, so I'm uploading chapters faster than I planned. I hope that I don't disappoint anyone. After reading all the seaQuest stories on this site, I fear that I may not do the subject justice. And again, as previously noted (I think), this is an unbeta'd story so please, be gentle.**

**As an aside, if you are reading, and not submitting a comment or review, consider it with this chapter. It might make the next chapter pop up even faster.**

**Chapter Two**

General Stassi turned to the main screen looming in front of him. President Bourne's requests were not to be taken lightly, and the General had taken it upon himself to make sure that he personally checked each detail of the upcoming mission. He had his best men assigned to the team and he would expect nothing less than success from them.

Stassi was a man of great patience and self-control, and he was proud to be a citizen of the Macronesian Alliance. He was military to the core; practically born into the role of a high-ranking officer as he was seventh generation Navy. General Stassi was as level-headed as was humanly possible, but ambitious. He had advanced in rank in record time; taking pride in each promotion. His role as the highest ranking Officer under Bourne's leadership, often led him to make decisions that may not have left him as comfortable as he'd liked.

However, every thing he did was in the best interest of his country. At least, that's what he liked to tell himself when he was dealing with the particularly unsavory contact who had uncovered the best "contractor" for this assignment. It was this contractor he was scheduled to speak to this afternoon. With less than 48 hours before their deadline, he could only hope that all details had been arranged and there were no problems to correct.

The screen in front of him suddenly came to life; the contractor in front of him.

"Mr. Harrington."

"Good afternoon, General."

Stassi gave the man a thorough visual appraisal before getting to the point. "All systems are go on this end. We should have the package delivered to the predetermined location by 2300 hours on the agreed upon date. Are the facilities up to your requirements?"

"Yes, Sir. It's remote but not isolated. The location is perfect for our needs." The younger man glanced at a sheet in front of him, barely visible from Stassi's side of the screen. "Just make sure that the area we are assigned is fully stocked before the package arrives."

General Stassi gave the man a curt nod, and received one in return.

"Out." The screen went blank and the General reached for his personal communication device. It was time for the final briefing of his team.

***

Lucas had spent the rest of the day following the untimely call from McGath, tying up loose ends caused by the aborted systems upgrade. As it stood, he and Tim were only able to complete a quarter of the communications stations on the bridge. He'd been worried that the partial process might create glitches in the system when the computers were linked with those that had not been adjusted, but his concern was unfounded. Lucas and Tim had run a number of tests with multiple scenarios, and they had all performed to standard.

He couldn't lie. He was somewhat relieved that the Headquarter-mandated upgrade had been unceremoniously postponed. Lucas was not a fan of these tasks. From previous experiences, he'd learned that the new software was often full of glitches that could take weeks to appear and sometimes even longer to correct. Now days, the IT specialists were pressured to get the new products out and on the fleet as quickly as possible, often fast-tracking the testing phase of production. If Captain Bridger was still in charge and Lucas not an enlisted member of the crew, he was certain he would find an even more effective means to improve the systems on the boat – not just communications and weapons. He knew the computerized entrails of this vessel almost as well as Captain Bridger knew the engineering counterparts.

The selfish teenager in him was also happy that he wasn't the only one who was going to miss out on celebrating the 4th of July. He would be the first to admit – albeit not out loud – that he was jealous. He used to love the annual fireworks displays as a kid and could only imagine that the New Cape Quest display would be spectacular. The ban on the antiquated explosive pyrotechnic devices as environmental hazards in the latter 21st century had not put a damper on their traditional uses. The modern equivalents were equally as impressive, cheaper and less time-intensive to produce, and ultimately better in terms of air pollution.

While relieved that the mind-numbing task was no longer a priority Lucas was both intrigued and slightly concerned about their next assignment. Over the course of the past 10 months, he'd come to the realization that most of these sudden changes in course were not good, and a few of them came with devastating fatalities. In the short time she'd been "back," _seaQuest_ had already lost Lieutenants Brody and Fredrickson.

Before Brody's death, Lucas had never thought of his own mortality. But now – now things were different. Every time a fighter sub took flight into a hostile situation, or a team went on a potentially _hot_ mission, he held his breath. They all did. The thick cloak of anticipation veiled the bridge and they all wondered who would fail to make it back this time. He only hoped that the reason Hudson had recalled essential personnel from shore leave, was a benign one.

As he had some time on his hands before the meeting, Lucas wandered back to the quarters he shared with Tony. Knowing his friend well, Tony probably had started celebrating his time off within minutes of his shoes hitting the soil. If history were any indication, the Warrant Officer would probably need to swing by the mess for a strong cup of coffee before heading to the Ward Room.

Lucas found Tony facedown on his bunk. He was fast asleep, fully dressed, and wearing his shoes. Piccolo had been on land for less than eight hours and had already managed to render himself incapacitated. A quick look at the time indicated that if he managed to get Piccolo up now, he'd have enough time to shower, change back into uniform and stop by the mess on the way to the meeting.

"Tony. Tony." Lucas called out before stooping down to shake his shoulder. In response, all he got was a quiet snort as his friend rolled onto his back.

"Come on, Tony. Wake up." This time, he was rewarded with a low groan and one half opened eye.

"Go 'way, Lucas." The half opened eye closed again.

"I can't. You need to get up and get moving. You have 30 minutes to get yourself up showered and dressed."

"Why?"

Based on experience trying to get his bunkmate up when he was not ready, Lucas knew he needed a new tactic. He reached over to grab hold of Tony's pillow.

"Because you can't go into a briefing with the captain smelling and looking like you just stumbled out of the back alley of a really questionable bar." With a tug, the pillow came free and Piccolo's head landed on the hard mattress with a muted thud.

"Fine. I'm up, I'm up." Piccolo stated despite not moving. "I just don't understand why I have to go. I'm not an officer."

"Don't ask questions. Just get your ass off the bed and towards the showers."

With a moan, Tony opened his eyes to half slits and inched his body into a seated position.

"How much did you have to drink anyway?" Lucas was curious as to how his friend had come to be this bedraggled in such a short span of time.

Grabbing a towel off the side of his locker, Tony looked back at Lucas with a grin. "I met this super hot chick on the beach…"

"I get it. Go shower." Lucas did not need to hear more. In fact, he could probably guess with a pretty high percentage of accuracy what happened. This story began like so many others and Lucas had heard them all. He shook his head in part from frustration and partly because he was somewhat impressed. He noted the time and how long he'd give Tony before having to head down there and drag him out of the showers himself.

***

Lucas and Tony were the last two people to enter the Ward Room, but still made it with minutes to spare. Surprisingly, Tony was back to his usual self albeit somewhat more subdued. They joined the rest of the bridge officers around the table and waited for the captain to begin.

"The map, Mr. Ford." Captain Hudson gestured to the screen behind him and a visual of the world materialized. "Since the recent contact with the Chaodai in June, both the Macronesian Alliance and the UEO have become equally as weary of their potential threat in the waters off the Andaman Sea and the Indian Ocean."

The map zoomed in to focus on their last known contact with the Chaodai.

"This particular area is under constant threat of take-over by President Bourne, and the Allied Confederations of Sub-Saharan Africa and the Middle East are already on high alert. Both the UEO and Macronesia agreed to keep the skirmish with the Chaodai top-secret, and there is little evidence to indicate that any of the confederations in that area know about the attack on the covert surveillance outpost, or that the Chaodai have broken their self-imposed 15-year isolation. Both parties would like to keep it that way."

Captain Hudson looked directly at Lieutenant Commander Kimura, before moving on. "Yesterday, the UEO received a somewhat surprising request from the Macronesian Alliance. It appears as though one of their subs stumbled across an abandoned outpost off the coast of Madagascar. There was some bickering over whether or not they had ventured out of neutral territory, but due to the nature of their find, the UEO is willing to overlook it."

The screen changed from the map, to a series of underwater surveillance images and building schematics. Lucas leaned in to get a closer view, and most of the table's occupants did the same. Only Hudson and Ford remained in position, having seen the pictures earlier that day.

"The Macronesian's were able to infiltrate the outpost and found evidence of a complex monitoring system and databank. However, they have not been able to break the code to access the information. Secretary General McGath has informed me that General Stassi has officially requested the assistance of the UEO in gaining insight into this station and is willing to share any of the information obtained. As the Macronesian Alliance believes this to be Chaodai, the UEO has agreed to send a team to investigate further."

"Captain, it is impossible that this outpost is Chaodai. Without any doubt, the Chaodai would destroy any, and all, evidence of their presence if they had moved this far south into the Indian Ocean. They would leave no record of their presence." Lt. Commander Kimura had pushed herself to standing. As a former member of the Chaodai's most lethal and elite fighter sub squadron, she had the most knowledge of the practically unknown enemy.

"Yes, Lt. Commander. You are right and the Secretary General is aware." Hudson raised his brows and indicated that his newest crewmember should sit back down. "Macronesia is completely unaware that a former member of the Chaodai military is now a UEO citizen and she is now one of our crew. In fact, Lt. Commander Kimura's existence is not known outside of this boat and a limited number of very high-ranking UEO officials. This will work in our favor on this assignment."

Captain Hudson moved to a position more directly in front of his crew, blocking the screen. He had their attention and he planned on using it. "We know that this cannot possibly be an abandoned outpost. We also know that this is not a UEO station either. Section Seven has confirmed. What we don't know is _why_ the Macronesian Alliance wants us there and what they have to gain with a possible joint-venture, if you will."

"It has to be some sort of a trap." Lonnie Henderson stated the thought that most of them had not yet had the opportunity to voice.

"Probably," Hudson responded.

"So the UEO is just going to send us in to see what the Macronesian's do?" O'Neill's expression was that of disbelief.

"It might be a ploy to get their hands on _seaQuest_," Lucas ventured. "An ambush. It's not like we've never been the target of terrorists and pirates before. Why not a whole confederation?"

"Maybe, but we're being sent in anyway. If it is a trap, we are the best equipped to deal with it," Hudson stated as a matter of fact. "While the UEO investigates further, we are under direct orders from the UEO Security Council to comply as an act of good will."

The Captain and Commander Ford exchanged a look – the commander's lips set in a thin line – and the rest of the crew knew that they were not going to like what was to follow.

"There's more. Both parties have agreed to send a team of two crew members to the base - unarmed. Both teams have to be pre-approved by both the UEO and Macronesia. These teams will work together to crack the databanks and to decipher as much of the information as possible. Everything will be shared equally by both sides."

Captain Hudson placed his hands on the table in front of him and deliberately made eye contact with his officers. He could see the same expression on all of them. They were not convinced, and neither was he.

"This does not sound like the same Macronesia under the power of President Bourne. The man is power-hungry, arrogant, and does not know the definition of the word 'cooperation.' The man most definitely has an ulterior motive and it's a matter of time before we find out what it is. In the meanwhile, we will be on high alert."

"Sir, permission requested to be assigned to the mission team."

Kimura's request did not come as a surprise. In fact, Hudson expected it.

"Denied, Lt. Commander. It is in the UEO's best interest that your presence on this boat remains top secret. We do not need the Chaodai, or the Macronesians, knowing that you were not on your subfighter when it was destroyed. You will, however, stay onboard to analyze the information that is fed through our communications channels from the outpost."

"Mr. O'Neill," Hudson turned to the Communications Chief who had remained relatively quiet during the briefing. "You will monitor the communications between the mission team and the boat, as well as the data streamed through for analysis."

Tim nodded, not surprised in the least. If he was uncomfortable having to work with Kimura, he did not let it show.

"The team members have already been selected and approved by the UEO Council and Macronesian Alliance. Mr. Wolenczak, for his computer skills and brief exposure to Chaodai technology, and Lt. Henderson for technical and tactical support. Any questions?"

"Sir," Tony took the opportunity to address the question that had been plaguing him since he received the recall notice. "Why am I here?"

"Excuse me, Mr. Piccolo?"

Lucas gave Tony a warning kick under the table, but it didn't stop the seaman from continuing.

"No offence, Sir, but I'm not sure why I'm here. I'm not an officer, let alone a senior officer, and I haven't been assigned a specific role in this mission."

"Mr. Piccolo, you may not have made lieutenant – yet – but you've already proven yourself to be a valuable member of this crew. And due to the fact that we are currently short a subfighter pilot; your recent training may come in handy."

"Yes, Sir."

The captain turned to address the room's occupants. "This may officially be classified a reconnaissance mission, folks, but I expect we'll be learning more about Bourne's motivation for this request soon enough. Mr. Wolenczak and Lt. Henderson, I suggest you start an inventory of all the equipment you think you'll need. We'll reconvene tomorrow to run through the mission details."

"The last of the crew will be onboard first thing in the morning and I expect to ship out immediately. Until then, we'll maintain the skeleton bridge crew and rotate shifts. We are set to rendezvous with the Macronesian sub off the coast of Madagascar by 1900 hours tomorrow. Mission will commence the following morning. I suggest you all get some rest. Dismissed."

The small group began to file out of the Ward Room, leaving Captain Hudson and Commander Ford to further develop the mission details and strategy.


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Disclaimer remains the same, as always. I said I'd post this after Chapter 22 was complete, but I lied. I haven't made headway on that one, but I figured I'd get this up anyway. Hope you enjoy. Thank you to everyone who has review/commented so far. I love the feedback.**

**Chapter Three**

John Harrington eased himself into the hard wooden chair and flipped open the file in front of him. The Macronesian military intelligence was nothing short of thorough when it came to digging out details; even those hidden well within the enemy's depths. The file was thicker than he anticipated and contained information dating back to the early 21st century. While Intelligence had done a comprehensive assessment, he knew that there was information missing from that file; information that he could gather faster and far more effectively by using his own resources.

He did not doubt that this assignment was going to be grueling and generally unpleasant, but he had not reached this position within the Macronesian government by luck and good fortune. He had worked hard to gain the trust and respect that he currently garnered. The fact that General Stassi and President Bourne had approved of his credentials enough to bring him as the lead of this operation, and to run it with little interference, was satisfying.

It had taken a long time to reach the point where he had closer access to the leader of the Macronesian Alliance and it was worth everything he had to forfeit to get there. He'd given up his life, his family, everything but the constant pursuit of professional advancement. At this point, he felt as though he could justify those sacrifices because he did it for his country. At least that's what he had to tell himself just to be able to sleep at night.

Harrington closed the file again and pushed himself away from the table. He and his small team were heading out to the facility first thing in the morning to double check that their specifications had been met. Without doubt, they would have to make some adjustments to serve their needs. However, he knew that President Bourne was adamant that this operation succeeded, regardless of cost and time - within reason of course. If anything was missing, or additional resources needed, Harrington knew that he would just have to ask.

***

Lucas sat on the metal platform, his legs dangling over the Moon Pool. It was late, but he wasn't quite ready to return to his quarters. After the briefing earlier, he'd come directly to Sea Deck to call Darwin back to the boat. He'd been surprised at how quickly the dolphin responded. He had imagined that Darwin was enjoying his "time off" as much as the rest of the crew.

Even though cetacean numbers had dwindled to levels that placed them on the world's most endangered species list in the past decade, the dolphins of the Atlantic appeared to be an anomaly. Their numbers had remained relatively robust and Lucas was still digging through recently published biological studies searching for answers.

Darwin had found a healthy population of bottlenose dolphins to swim with for most of the day, yet still did not hesitate to return to _seaQuest_ when called. Lucas watched the animal swim lazily around the tank, stopping to lift his head and chatter on occasion. The dolphin seemed to sense that he really wasn't in the mood to talk and had kept his questions and observations to a minimum. Lucas had set the handheld vocorder next to him on the platform, but he hadn't had much use for it this evening.

Lucas and Darwin had developed an especially close friendship starting almost immediately from when they'd first been introduced so many years before. Despite this close bond, Lucas was still somewhat surprised the Darwin had opted to stay with the boat and crew, rather than return to the Caribbean waters with Captain Bridger. He'd tried asking Darwin why he didn't leave, but either the concept was too complex for the vocorder to translate – it _did_ have a limited vocabulary base – or Darwin's reasoning was not as easy to interpret. What he'd gathered from the conversation was that Darwin felt as though the crew was family and the _seaQuest_ was home, much like he did. What he thought he could grasp from their discussion was that Darwin also was suffering the effects of being gone for an entire decade and returning to a changed world.

Lucas continued to watch Darwin swim, only half contemplating whether or not to head back to his quarters. Before he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, he heard footsteps. Lucas looked up to see Tim walking towards him.

"Hey, Tim."

"Hi Lucas."

Tim walked onto the platform and sat next to him. They'd found themselves in this same position more than once before. It was the preferred place for them to sit and think, knowing that it was very unlikely that they would be disturbed. Ever since the science and research component of the boat had been cut, and all civilians dismissed, the Sea Deck and former science wing were practically abandoned. Even Lucas had fewer opportunities to visit Darwin here these days. He was too busy with his mandatory bridge rotation as well as other duties assigned to him as the Chief Science Officer. More like _only_ science officer, Lucas scoffed quietly. This did not go unnoticed.

Tim glanced up from staring at the water. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You can talk to me, Lucas. You know that."

The communications officer was being sincere. Of all of them, Lucas and Tim were the two that probably had the most in common. At least, they were dealing with similar issues under the new captain. Tim felt as though he was under constant scrutiny and had countless times proven to Hudson that he was not worthy of his post. While he knew he was good at his job and was one of the best the UEO had to offer in terms of officers with such a vast knowledge of languages, he was convinced that Captain Hudson didn't think much of him as a soldier.

From what Lucas had seen over the past few months, he could tell that Tim was starting to adjust to the pressures of their new lives. Not only had he actually broken orders and taken a launch to meet Kimura, but he had also made the snap decision to save her life. Tim just wasn't aware of these changes and was frequently bogged down by self-doubt.

Lucas also felt as though he was constantly being scrutinized. This led to an overwhelming urge to prove himself a good soldier; one worthy of his post. Both he and Tim had lost a lot in the transition after Hyperion. He knew that the others had lost a lot too, but Tim had lost his best friend, Miguel, and Lucas had lost the best thing in his life: his relationship with Captain Bridger.

"It's nothing. Really." Changing the subject, he added, "how come you're not at the poker game?"

Tim gave a half-attempt at a laugh. "Not in the mood, I guess. How about you?"

"Me either."

They both sat in silence for a few moments, before Tim spoke again. "They're not the same, the poker games. You know, without Miguel and Wendy."

And Lucas did know. It was strange returning to _seaQuest_ and finding that their two former crew mates hadn't made it back. It was even stranger having no memory of where they'd been, what had happened and _how_ Miguel and Wendy had died. All they had was Captain Bridger's vague explanation of events and the knowledge that their memories – and the boat's memory databanks – had been erased for a reason.

That day, the day that Captain Bridger had told them the truth – had been the beginning of the end. The end of everything he had come to rely on. That was the same day he'd learned that Captain Bridger, the one constant in his life, the one person he could always trust, was leaving and he didn't ask Lucas to come with him. That hurt.

He knew he and the captain weren't family, but he had thought they were close; closer than he had ever been with his own father. The captain had abandoned Lucas when he needed him and left him to deal with Hudson alone. He'd been left with a difficult decision that day; one he will always question if he'd made the correct choice. Leave _seaQuest_, the only place he knew as home, and his friends, or sign on with the UEO Navy. Since he had no one and no place to go, he'd felt there really wasn't much of a choice. Unlike his parents and Captain Bridger, he wouldn't abandon his "family."

Lucas rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. He was tired, but there was thing he needed to do before he headed to bed for the night. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wrinkled legal-sized white envelope. He held it in his lap for a while, not quite sure if this was an appropriate moment.

Lucas looked to the man at his right and saw that he was looking at the envelope.

"Tim, I need you to do something for me."

O'Neill sat straight and looked across the water at Darwin's sleek form. "Why is it I think I don't want to know what you are going to say?

"Because you're a pessimist?" Lucas' mouth turned up at the corner with the hint of a smile.

"Very funny, Lucas. I prefer to think of myself as a realist." Tim adjusted his position towards his friend and nodded at the envelope. "Is that what I think it is?"

"It's for Captain Bridger. I need you to take it and hold onto it for me, Tim." Lucas held the envelope out to O'Neill, who did not move to take it.

"I'm not taking your death letter, Lucas." Tim looked away again.

"It's not a _death letter_; it's just an explanation for the captain if anything happens to me."

"Lucas, how many missions have you been on in the last 10 months? Not once have you asked me to hold onto that before. What's going on?"

"I don't know how to explain it. I just have a bad feeling about this one. I just need to know that you'll give this to Captain Bridger. You know, in case I don't come back." Lucas pulled his legs up and put his chin on his knees, still holding onto the letter.

"Fine, but I'm giving it right back as soon as you return." Tim took the letter and slipped it into his own pocket.

"Thank you." He pushed himself to standing and Tim followed suit. "I think I'm going to head to bed." He glanced at his watch. It was late.

"Yeah. Me too."

The two junior officers walked silently across the platform and out of Sea Deck. They both were on watch first shift, in seven hours.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes from the Author: Here's the next (short) chapter. Yet again, thanks to everyone reading and commenting. I think this might be the last update for a while. Starting in the next chapter, there are some HUGE holes and inconsistencies in the plot that need to be corrected and I'm still working on Chapter 22. D'oh! This chapter contains a reference to one of my favorite conversations in Season 2.**

**Chapter Four**

Early the next day, July 4th, _seaQuest_ set course for the rendezvous point in the Indian Ocean just short a handful of crew. The majority of the 248 crewmembers decided to keep their four-day shore leave limited to Florida and were therefore, easy to recall on such short notice. However a few had taken the rare opportunity to travel further distances to visit family and friends. Not willing to wait for the handful of stragglers who could not make it back in time, they would be picked up at a predetermined location later . If the delay proved to be more than a few days, UEO Headquarters would assign them both accommodations and temporary land-based assignments until the details could be worked out.

Of the crew onboard, only the select few officers and Piccolo were aware of the details of the current mission. However, the _seaQuest_'s crew were the best and most professional in the UEO Navy and knew that their orders must be important for their plans to change so suddenly. There were some grumblings in the hallways and the mess, but they were kept to a minimum.

For Lucas, the day started out as predictable as he could expect: first watch on the bridge, checking on a number of glitches, including the WSKRS sensor system, and visiting with Darwin. The rest of his day was devoted to preparations for the upcoming mission. Hudson had made it understood that they would go over each and every detail of their ops plan until all possible scenarios had been addressed and resolved. In addition, Lucas had to make sure any, and all, equipment he'd need to crack an unknown system had been secured and tested and then neatly and carefully packed in a bag.

He'd settled on bringing with him his favorite palmtop computer, one he'd painstakingly built and rebuilt countless times to his own specifications. The keyboard was like an extension of his body and he knew that the ease at which he could manipulate the machine would help reduce some of the time he'd need to gain access to the system they were trying to "read."

Of course, the computer was not the only equipment needed, and O'Neill and Lt. Henderson had agreed on the best communications tools for them to use. Since Lucas would need his hands free, they'd decided on a small earpiece with voice amplification capabilities. Since everyone knew that Lucas would probably not be describing his every move while he was deep into an enemy's computer system, the communications responsibility would rest almost entirely on Henderson.

They were instructed to make contact with _seaQuest_ every hour on the hour, until Lucas had gained access to the information they needed. That was going on the assumption that he would be successful when it was obvious that the Macronesians had not been. Once Lucas was in, they would establish an immediate connection between the outpost and the boat, with the data running through a virus scrubber in case it infected the _seaQuest's_ mainframe.

The biggest concern for the mission was the safety and safe return of Lonnie and Lucas. It bothered them all that no weapons were allowed, however this would be extended to include the two Macronesians on the assignment. Lucas was under strict orders direct from Captain Hudson that he was to abort the mission immediately if anything looked even remotely amiss. Lonnie, adept at reading people, was to keep a close eye on the Macronesian crew for any activity that could be considered threatening or out of character.

The _seaQuest_ and the Macronesian sub would remain equal distance from the outpost and both parties would send their crew in small transport launches. No fighter subs were to be used during this mission. These were direct orders from the UEO Council. While stationary, _seaQuest_ would drop a communications grid over the area and run continuous scans for life forms, as well as regular weapons checks. Without being allowed into the outpost ahead of time for a full weapons sweep, this was the best they could do from a distance.

Lucas headed towards the mess, the hour until he and Lonnie were set to launch, fast approaching. As he entered the hall, he saw that it was relatively empty. He wasn't hungry – in fact, the last thing he was interested in was eating – but he knew it would be best if he didn't skip a meal before a mission. He didn't know how long they'd be over there, and it wouldn't do him any good to get distracted by his growling stomach when he should be focused on the task at hand.

He grabbed a tray and added a plate of the daily unidentifiable special, and poured himself a glass of juice. He was heading over towards an empty table when he heard someone calling his name.

"Lucas!"

It was Commander Ford.

Ford waved him over, and Lucas pulled up a chair at the commander's table. He was sitting with a few folders spread out in front of him, and Lucas assumed he was trying to prepare as much as possible for the mission. Commander Ford was a very hands-on officer and it probably bothered him that he was not assigned the new task with Lucas.

As Lucas started to pick at the food on his plate, Commander Ford pushed the last piece of paperwork back into a file and closed it up. Lucas could see that the commander was worried. That was evident based on the look on his face. Jonathan Ford was a relatively difficult man to read, but Lucas had known him for a long time. He braced himself for what could only be a pep talk or a warning of sorts.

"Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be, Sir." Lucas looked his commanding officer in the eye. "Lonnie and I have been through all the details countless times and checked all our gear."

"I didn't mean if you had the equipment ready, Lucas. I was asking if _you_ were ready for this."

"I know, Commander."

"You know that this is a very irregular mission. You need to be on your highest alert. We have no idea what the Macronesians aim to get by drawing us into this and you need to be prepared for any sort of ambush. I know this isn't the best time to bring it up, but I need you to be prepared for the worst."

"Is there something about this mission you're not telling me, Sir?" Lucas was beginning to feel even more uneasy than he had since they'd first been informed of the new assignment.

"No, Lucas. This is just the first really unknown situation we've been in since returning." With that, he gave Lucas a knowing look, "and I need to know that you are ready."

"I know." Lucas continued to push the food around on his plate. "You _do_ remember that I've been in more than one dangerous situation, and I'm not just talking about since I signed up, right? I can hold my own, Commander. I thought I'd proved that already."

Commander Ford sighed and leaned back against his seat.

"I know, Lucas, and you've surprised me. Surprised all of us. Listen, I just need to make sure you remember all the combat training we've gone through, and I'm not talking about weapons."

Lucas waited. He knew that Commander Ford was skirting around a particular issue, he knew exactly which one, and wanted him to just come out and say it.

"I need to go through some of the UEO's survival protocol."

Lucas sat back in his own chair and crossed his arms against his chest defiantly.

"You mean, what I am allowed to say or not to say in case this mission goes south and Lt. Henderson and I are taken prisoner by the Macronesians." He raised an eyebrow and waited for Ford to respond. The man looked uncomfortable, and for good reason. This was not a topic any of them wanted to discuss. Lucas just wasn't sure if Captain Hudson had assigned Ford the task of reviewing this information with him, or if he was doing it because he was particularly concerned about the direction this mission would take.

Ford leaned into the table, his voice low. "Lucas, you're only an ensign and you haven't been in this position for very long. You managed to get to this point without any formal military training and completely skipped the training that is generally required of all officers in the UEO. I need to be sure you know proper protocol."

Lucas dropped his voice to match that of Ford's, and recited the text he'd read and reread countless times since signing up for the Navy.

"If questioned by the enemy, by no matter what authority, you must give only your name, rank and serial number. Do not discuss military matters of any sort with anyone. An "allied" soldier may be an enemy intelligence agent. Forget all you know about your own military. If anyone wants to discuss it with you, even its insignificant details, say nothing."

He stared Ford in the eye, the solemnity of the conversation very apparent to both. "I won't crack, Commander. If I'm taken prisoner, I don't plan on giving away any UEO secrets."

"Lucas, I know you would never betray _seaQuest_ or the UEO voluntarily, but in times of conflict, the enemy has ways of convincing you it's for the best. If they take both you and Lt. Henderson, there's a good chance they may use her to get to you. Lt. Henderson is tough; a good soldier. She can handle her own. I need you to remember that. Okay?"

Lucas knew that Commander Ford was concerned for him, and he regretted being so combative. He just couldn't help himself. He often found himself getting defensive when he felt cornered. He respected his commanding officer and it made him feel better that the older man was making sure he was well prepared.

"Commander, what's your gut feeling on this one?" He almost didn't want to know the answer.

Ford closed his eyes briefly before he answered. "Something isn't right here. I don't know what they want from us, but it certainly isn't help on getting some data off a computer. Bourne has all the resources he needs to do this himself. He has some of the most respected scientists and computer experts in the world working for him. He has control over Deon Industries technology far superior to ours. If he wanted to break into that system, I'm pretty sure he'd have found someone to do it by now."

"Yeah." It was somewhat reassuring, yet frightening, to know that one of the best soldiers he knew was having the same gut reaction to this mission.

Commander Ford gathered his files and pushed back from the table, ready to leave. He turned, hesitated and then addressed Lucas again.

"Lucas, do you remember the time you asked me if I ever laughed?"

The ensign looked up at the commander with an amused expression, and cocked his head. "You said you couldn't. Because when you laughed you were too good looking.'"

Ford chuckled at the memory before he got serious again. "I haven't heard you laugh in a while, Lucas. What's your excuse?"

Lucas pondered the question for a moment. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed either. "I guess there just hasn't been anything to laugh about."

"Well, then you need to do something about that. Get some rest, Lucas." The commander walked out the mess hall, leaving Lucas to reflect on their conversation.


	6. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes: I just finished writing Chapter 22 (now chapter 21 due to some reshuffling) and as promised, my lovely readers, here is Chapter Five. All disclaimers remain the same. I don't own any of the names you recognize and any aspect of _seaQuest_. I do think that I might have too much invested in this story as I am having a lot of seaQuest related dreams lately. Last night, I dreamed that Jonathan Brandis was not dead and he returned (to my office?) much to everyone's shock and surprise. Anyway, happy reading.**

**Chapter Five**

Lt. Henderson maneuvered the launch into the docking station, making sure that a tight seal was made. She flipped the necessary controls and unfastened her lap belt. Lucas, seated next to her, scanned the monitor for any anomalies.

Time had passed almost too quickly between when Lucas had left the mess the previous night and their assigned launch time. So far, everything had gone according to plan and they had no reason to suspect anything amiss. They'd made the rendezvous point ahead of schedule and the Macronesian sub had arrived shortly thereafter. All contact between the two boats had been civil, yet guarded, and cooperation agreed upon.

This morning, the Macronesian launch had left their bay at the same time as they had and the two transport vehicles had made contact with the outpost almost simultaneously; docked at adjacent stations. Lucas gathered their gear, while Lonnie opened the door lock. They'd both dressed in combat gear, despite the nature of the mission, utilizing all pockets for smaller tools that might come in handy.

"Ready?" Lt. Henderson touched Lucas' arm before picking up the small bag containing their communications link-ups.

"Lead the way, Lieutenant," the younger man responded, giving her a quick smile.

Lonnie smiled back and stepped through the hatch. The Macronesian crew seemed to have packed even lighter than they had, with only one small bag between them. Both men, dressed in the black and red uniforms of the Macronesian Alliance, stepped closer to the _seaQuest_ crew.

"Lieutenants Arnaud and Davies," the larger of the two men spoke, looking Lonnie and Lucas up and down.

As the superior officer, Lonnie responded, "Lieutenant Henderson and Ensign Wolenczak. Shall we get started?" She nodded her head towards the corridor leading out of launch bay, and presumably into the depths of the outpost, and started moving.

Lucas shouldered his bag, giving the two Macronesian soldiers a sidelong glance, and followed Henderson. While neither of them had been there before, they couldn't assume that this was the Macronesians first visit to the station. Captain Hudson had made it clear that even if they had never stepped foot on that base before, they were expected to know every inch of it based on the maps and blueprints Lucas was able to download from various sources. Like Bridger before him, Hudson had not asked how Lucas was able to get the classified information, preferring to remain in the dark.

Both Lonnie and Lucas knew exactly which direction to head, if they were going directly to the main computer server that appeared to be running the majority of the outpost's systems. The two Macronesian soldiers did not question their knowledge of the base's layout, and followed in silence.

The corridor was dark and all four soldiers pulled headlamps from their bags. The light emitted from their gear was barely enough to illuminate the way, but it did the job. Lucas knew that once they reached the core of the outpost, they'd be able to activate the generator and get the systems back up and running. Since the Macronesians had been here before, and as far as they knew, exhausted all attempts to break into the computer database, they'd have made sure that the outpost would be functional for that purpose.

It did not take them long to reach the central node of the outpost. The facility was relatively small; consisting of nothing more than a three bay docking station, modest living quarters, and the center room that could only be the primary location for all the work that took place here. It was in this room that the group was to set up their equipment.

Lucas turned around to see one of the Macronesian soldiers – Arnaud – reach behind a tall panel and flip a lever. With a deep groan and a long whine, the generator kicked in. This was followed by flickering lights. It took a moment for the lights to stabilize, but it was apparent that the outpost was still fully functioning.

He pulled the headlamp off and shoved it back into his bag while looking around the room. It was relatively bare, with the exception of a bank of computers on the one wall and the typical horizontal workstation in the center. With the ease of someone who felt completely comfortable in the world of technology, computers in particular, Lucas was quickly able to identify the best machine to start with. He pulled his palm top out of the bag and moved to where he wanted to set up.

"Unless there's a problem, I'd like to start here." Lucas addressed the two men behind him.

"Fine. I'll set up in the space directly in front of you." The men moved around the bank of machines and pulled his personal computer out.

"Wait. Don't connect anything yet." Lucas quickly called out as the man looked ready to boot up his personal machine. "I need to open it up and check the parts first." He grabbed his bag and pulled out the tools he'd need for the job.

Both Lieutenants Arnaud and Davies stopped what they were doing and gave Lucas a confused look. Henderson, on the other hand, was used to his approach with new hardware. She continued to pull communications equipment from her gear and turned on her earpiece. While he examined the innards of the machines in front of them, she'd make sure they were set up for their first report in to _seaQuest_.

He walked around the main CPU, searching for the access panel. It was exactly where he expected. Grabbing a multipurpose tool from his pocket, he slipped it into the seam and popped the panel off. The wires and chips exposed, he set to work identifying individual parts.

"Are you going to be long in there, or should we take a coffee break?" Davies piped up from his seat, obviously annoyed.

"Listen, your country brought us in on this assignment because you couldn't break into the system yourself. Maybe you should just exercise a little patience and let me do this my way." He knew the moment the words left his mouth that he probably shouldn't have spoken like that. Despite being on opposite sides of a very tense political situation, they were still higher ranking officers than he was. However, he was right and knew that the first step to hacking into the computer system was to know what kind of hardware he was working with.

Lucas did not look up to see that the two men had not even shifted at his remark. It was almost as though they expected him to behave out of rank. He continued to examine the circuitry, until he got to the motherboard, frowning in concern the further in he moved.

"Lt. Henderson, can you hand me my circuit scanner?" Lucas held out his hand, head still wedged under the counter and as far into the computer as he could get.

He felt something slapped into his hand.

"Wait," he whispered.

"What is it Lucas?" She was whispered back, getting down closer to where he was working.

"I haven't even attempted to turn the computer on and I already know that this is not Chaodai." Lucas pulled his head out a bit to make eye contact with the Lieutenant. "So far, I've found parts in here that were made by Deon Industries, a few Macronesian pieces, and a fair number from a variety of other confederations. There is no way the Chaodai would build a computer with that many foreign components. Lt. Commander Kimura's subfighter was made with some of the most advanced technology I've ever seen. It was 100% Chaodai. Their computers would be too."

"So, you think that this is Macronesian?"

"I don't know yet. It could be, but it's also likely that anyone in the world with access to pretty sophisticated technology and a good background in computer engineering could have put this together." Lucas chewed his lip in thought. "Have you linked up with _seaQuest_ yet?"

"No, not yet. I was just about to before you called me over. Turn your earpiece on now. You should receive confirmation of the link in a minute." She started to get up from her knees, when Lucas stopped her.

"Hey Lonnie. Watch those two, okay? I don't think I'm going to be able to if I'm trying to hack into this network."

"Already on it, Lucas." She gave him a quick smile before standing up and stepping away.

He pushed the circuits and wires back into place and returned the panel. Lucas then pulled himself to standing and sat in the chair directly in front of the Macronesian soldiers.

"Okay, I'm ready to turn this machine on and start trying to access some files." He checked to see their reaction.

Arnaud responded by giving him a curt nod. "Find anything interesting in there?"

"No, nothing I haven't seen before." With that, he found the main power switch on the CPU and turned it on. Lucas smiled to himself as he stretched his arms in front of him, fingers intertwined. Now it was time for the interesting part.

***

The mood on the _seaQuest's_ bridge was tense as they waited for Lonnie and Lucas to make initial contact. They had succeeded in establishing a monitoring grid across the outpost and adjacent waters, and were running alternating life and weapon scans every 15 minutes. As of that moment, everything was moving forward according to plan. There was no evidence of anything out of the ordinary at the outpost – at least nothing they could detect.

Both Captain Hudson and Commander Ford were on the bridge supervising both the regular activities associated with a boat that size, and the details of the mission that they had some semblance of control over. It was evident to the crew that both superior officers were nervous and uneasy. Commander Ford was constantly checking and rechecking the same data, his lips set in a thin line. The Captain paced back and forth between the command chair and the communications console, glancing at the information on Lieutenant O'Neill's screen.

This continuous attention to his station left Tim feeling very anxious and uncomfortable, on top of the nervousness he felt for Lucas and Lonnie. He and Kimura had set up his station with everything they would need to monitor the activity and contact with the outpost, and Lt. Commander Kimura was ready to start analyzing anything for verification that this indeed had been a Chaodai base. Up until now, there had been nothing but silence from their team. Tim lifted his hand to his headset as he heard some static from the link.

"Lt. Henderson, this is _seaQuest_, do you read?"

"SeaQuest, _this is Henderson reporting"._

Tim turned to face the Captain with a smile. "Sir, we have contact with the team."

"Put them on speaker, Mr. O'Neill."

"Aye, Captain."

"Lonnie, you're on speaker."

Captain Hudson addressed his lieutenant directly, "Henderson, I assume things are going according to plan? Anything we should be aware of before your next scheduled check in?"

"_Yes, Sir._ _Lucas checked the hardware on the main computer terminal before attempting to access the database."_ Her voice dropped much lower as she continued. _"Sir, he was able to find evidence of parts from multiple confederations, including Macronesia, but nothing that showed evidence of being Chaodian."_

"I see." Captain Hudson looked at Lt. Commander Kimura who had frowned at this information.

The newest member of their crew was usually completely impossible to read. Tim found it somewhat disconcerting to see her reaction to this new information.

"Lieutenant, is there any indication that the Macronesian soldiers assigned to this mission are aware of Wolenczak's findings?

"_No, Sir. We're keeping it quiet for right now, but they don't seem too concerned with our activities. And Sir, they appear to be less than determined to gain access into the electronic files."_

Lonnie's voice was still hushed, but those on the bridge could note the concern in her tone.

"_Captain, these two have either been here before, and attempted to retrieve the data, or they are assuming that Lucas will do it for them. They don't seem to be doing much other that watching Lucas work."_

"Is there any reason to believe that either of you is at risk; that the mission should be aborted?"

"_No, Sir. No evidence of anything threatening – yet."_

Tim paled when he heard her say "yet." She obviously felt that something other than their predetermined assignment was going on. Lt. Henderson was a good soldier with first-hand experience of the deceit of which the Macronesian Alliance could be capable. Of all the crew to be placed on this mission, she was probably best suited to reading the situation. If she felt that something was not _right_ about the situation, then they all had good reason to be worried.

"Lieutenant, has Wolenczak made any headway on that computer yet?"

There was a brief pause before Henderson responded. _"Lucas informs me that he has not yet managed to break the security of the mainframe, but he's making progress."_

"Fine. I expect you to make the next scheduled contact on time. Not a second late. Did you get that, Henderson?" Captain Hudson's command was one only a fool would not follow.

"_Loud and clear, Sir."_

"Good. _SeaQuest_ out."

O'Neill terminated the channel between the boat and the outpost, and turned his attention to the short-range sensor readings. There was nothing indicating any threat from the Macronesian Centaur class sub monitoring its own team, or any other movement surrounding the outpost. He could see the communications sensors activate, indicating that the smaller, enemy sub was also making contact with the outpost, but the link was secure, as theirs had been.

Tim took a look around the bridge, noting the expressions on the faces of those around him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Tony so solemn and focused at the helm. In fact, everyone was hyper-focused on his or her tasks. It was as though they expected something was going to happen, but no one could begin to speculate what it would be. The unknown was almost more frightening than the knowledge that they were moving into battle.

O'Neill noticed Captain Hudson walking towards him, and quickly moved his attention back to his console. Nothing had changed in the two minutes since he'd last checked, but he knew, from experience, that the captain expected complete military focus on the bridge at all times.

***

Two hours and two more status updates later, and Lucas found himself staring at a streaming line of code. His fingers flew across the keyboard, seemingly with a mind of their own, as he tried to process the information. So far, he'd managed to break a pretty sophisticated intruder alert system before it was able to send any information off of the base, and had started the process to crack the primary security system protected the first layer of data.

Lucas now found himself in a world where no one existed except for him and the information being fed to him. If anyone had even tried to speak to him, there is no way Lucas would have heard them, let alone responded. This was familiar territory to the young ensign; where he felt the most comfortable. This is what he missed the most about being in the military. While a civilian on board _seaQuest_, Bridger had used Lucas' position to dig deep into more than one file classified by the UEO. There wasn't much he couldn't get his hands on back then. Now that he was an officer in the UEO Navy, any attempt at hacking into data above his security clearance could result in a court marshal and years in military prison. Not exactly where he wanted to spend the "best" years of his life.

Squinting at a segment of numbers that jumped out at him from the monitor, Lucas willed his fingers to move even faster. _Yes. I'm in_. He hadn't realized that he'd spoken out loud until he felt Lt. Henderson move closer and the Macronesian soldiers leaned over the top of the console.

"Hey, Lucas," Lonnie placed her hand on his arm and leaned in to get a better look at the files he was digging through. "Any idea how long it's going to take you to go through the data?"

Not moving from his position, or removing his eyes from the screen, Lucas gave her a vague reply, "Uh, no, not yet. I've only managed to peel the first layer away, get access to the least protected information. It's still going to take some time to pull back further layers and that really depends on any additional security features they've managed to attach."

Lucas didn't notice as Arnaud and Davies established a communications link with their sub and didn't notice Lt. Henderson do the same with _seaQuest_. The Macronesians had the mirror image of the information tracking across his screen, on theirs. As there was concern between the two parties that one side would keep information from the other, they had agreed to this condition.

Lucas' immediate concern was getting as deep as he could as fast as he could, before the two Macronesian soldiers started hanging over his shoulder. Lucas already knew this was not a Chaodai intelligence post, nor was anything else related to the secretive and closed off country. His motivation for digging through these files right now was to determine _who_ had gone through the effort to protect them so securely, not _what_ they were protecting.

It wasn't until he heard an incessant beeping in his own ear that he stopped typing and looked up. Lonnie was looking at him expectantly. This could only imply one thing: that she'd been talking to him and he hadn't heard a word she'd said.

"Sorry. What did you say?"

"Tim wants to talk to you." She pointed at her own headset.

"Oh, okay. One minute." Lucas pressed a small button on the earpiece and the beeping stopped. "This is Lucas."

"_You know, Lucas,"_ Tim chuckled in his ear, _"Lonnie's been trying to get your attention for a few minutes." _

"Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't hear her."

"_She says you've managed to gain access to the data. Are you ready to start sending files through to Lt. Commander Kimura for analysis? We have the link ready to go, as soon as you are."_

"Uh, no. I've only managed to get through the first level of security and there isn't anything here worth sending. Most of it is basic scientific data associated with weather conditions, sea current and other biologicals in the area. It reads like an underwater weather report. I have no idea who thought it was such a good idea to even protect it."

"_Okay. I'm going to keep this channel open for now. We are going to move ahead with the constant monitoring of all communications on the outpost, including any conversations you may have with the Macronesians." _O'Neill explained.

"Okay. Hey, Tim?"

"_Yes, Lucas?"_

"Did Lonnie tell you about the hardware?"

"_That it shows no evidence of being Chaodai? Yeah."_

"Good." Lucas knew that Lt. Henderson was also linked into this conversation and dropped his voice as low as he could without making it obvious to the two Macronesian soldiers that were keeping information from them. "These files aren't Chaodai either. There is nothing in here worth protecting. It's just a bunch of gibberish stuck into random files and protected by a very sophisticated security system. I think someone is playing with us. I just don't know if it's the Macronesians or someone else. I'm looking for evidence of who planted this entire database right now."

Captain Hudson's voice took over from O'Neill's.

"_Mr. Wolenczak. I'm giving you two more hours to get what you need. If you still see that there is nothing there to convince you that this is some kind of intelligence outpost, Chaodai or not, I want you to abort this mission and get back here, ASAP."_

"Yes, Sir"

The communications link became silent. The only evidence of the open channel was slight static. Lucas ignored it and focused his attention back on the running code in front of him. He'd hardly enough time to feel the information draw him back in, his fingers moving swiftly across the keypad, before he was jolted into awareness by a sudden explosion. The computer bank rocked in response and Lucas grabbed the counter in front of him to stop from falling off the chair. Lonnie, who was standing to his left, was knocked off her feet and onto the floor. The structure continued to shake as the noise dissipated, raining plaster and other small debris around them. Almost simultaneously, the lights dimmed, power fluctuated and the klaxon sounded, alerting the four soldiers that they needed to abandon the facility immediately. Before Lucas could even push his way back from the machine in front of him, sparks sputtered out the vents, prompting him to shield his face.

"What the hell is going on?" Arnaud shouted from opposite the two _seaQuest_ crew. Both he and Davies were scrambling to gather their gear and get themselves out of harm's way.

"Lucas, let's go!" Lonnie shouted over the noise, grabbing a bag and lunging for his arm.

She didn't have to tell him twice. Lucas shoved his palm top into his bag, along with a few other items he didn't want to have to replace, and all four soldiers ran for the door leading back to launch bay, dodging objects still falling.


	7. Chapter 6

**I just finished writing Chapter 22, so as a prize I'm posting Chapter 6. It's short, but hopefully packs a punch. If you write a comment/review, I will be so giddy with happiness....**

**Chapter Six**

On _seaQuest_, O'Neill heard what only could be described as blast from an explosion and the chaos that ensued. He could hear Lonnie yelling to Lucas as they rushed to move; but above all, he heard the chilling sound of the warning klaxon.

He turned to Captain Hudson and Commander Ford to alert them of the situation, but it was evident by their faces that he didn't need to. They'd seen the changes in the short-range scanner readings and they knew something had happened at that base. They just didn't know what.

"Captain, there appears to have been some sort of explosion in the outpost," Lt. Anders called from the station usually occupied by Lucas. "I'm getting some readings from the station which indicates that the structure has been compromised."

"Put the audio on speaker, Mr. O'Neill. Anders, get the WSKR views up on the screen immediately."

The main screen lit up immediately with views from two of the WSKR's deployed to monitor the outpost, and the bridge was assaulted with the sounds coming from Henderson and Wolenczak's communications channel: pounding against the floor, slamming of metal hitting metal, and heavy breathing coming from their crew in trouble.

"_SeaQuest, this is Henderson, do you copy?"_ Lonnie's voice was strained and she sounded as though she was on the move.

"What is your status, Lieutenant?" Captain Hudson stood tall, his back straight and eyes glued to the images displayed on the main screen.

"_Sir, there seems to have been some sort of explosion in the facility. We are aborting the mission and making our way to the launch bay."_ Lonnie stopped speaking for a moment, interrupted by a fit of coughing. _"Captain, there doesn't appear to be any indication of flooding, so the overall structure is probably still intact, but this place is filling up pretty quickly with smoke. I don't think the fire prevention system is functioning."_

"_Here, over here! Move, move, move!" _a foreign voice called out, most probably one of the two Macronesian soldiers_, _followed by_, "Damn it, it's sealed closed."_

"_Let me see."_ Lucas' voice could be heard in the background, and O'Neill raised his eyebrows in surprise. They were hearing him through Lonnie.

"_Sir, the doors to the launch bay have automatically sealed closed. Lucas is –"_ She was interrupted before she could finish her sentence.

"_It'll only hold for a minute. Go, go!"_

Again, all they could hear on the bridge was coughing and running and the outpost's warning alarm.

Tim took advantage of the short break to notify the Captain, "Sir, Lucas' direct communication channel with _seaQuest_ is no longer functioning. We're only getting feedback from Lt. Henderson."

The captain set his jaw, and raised his chin. His eyes never wavered from the main screen. There was not much on there to see, but they were all waiting to see the transport launch successfully exit the outpost's docking station.

"_Captain,"_ Lonnie's voice broke through again, "_we're in the launch bay. I'm going to have to manually override the system to get us out of here." _

"Estimated time, Lieutenant?"

"_Lucas."_ She paused. _"Lucas?"_

"_Damn it. Sir, I've lost Lucas. I need to go back." _

"What do you mean, you've _lost_ Wolenczak?" The Captain stood there, hands locked behind his back, but the concern was written across his face.

Lonnie responded with a fit of coughing, her voice thick with smoke, _"Sir, he was right behind me when we came through into this section. He was holding the door for the rest of us. I can't see him through all this smoke. I – "_

Suddenly, Lt. Henderson was cut off completely. They were left with nothing but distracting background noise on the other end of the channel.

"Lieutenant? Lieutenant, can you hear me?" Captain Hudson waited for a response.

O'Neill adjusted a few switches before reporting, "Sir, I'm picking up evidence that the link is still open. She's just not responding."

With that bit of news, the captain did not hesitate. "Commander Ford, get a rescue team out and in the water NOW! Take Piccolo." He immediately initiated the link to Med Bay. "Dr. Perry, prepare a medical team to meet in Launch Bay."

Hudson continued to spit out orders. "O'Neill, keep trying to contact Henderson and Wolenczak. Pay attention to any sounds of life coming from that outpost."

"I want the images of life forms up on the screen immediately. Let's see where they are in that facility. If there are any unauthorized bodies in that building, I want to know right now."

A chorus of "yes, sir's" was heard across the bridge, and Tim turned his attention back to his console. He'd check every band and frequency before he stopped trying to get contact reestablished with his friends. At this point, their main concern was to get the team out, alive, as quickly as possible.

"Captain," a voice piped up from the side, "I've got confirmation that a launch is clearing the outpost docking station."

"Is it ours?"

"Negative, sir. It's the Macronesian transport."

"Life form status?"

Anders responded, "none indicated in the facility, sir."

For the briefest moment, there was complete silence on the bridge. Then, all eyes moved back to the main screen.

"Commander Ford, status of rescue launch"

Ford's voice could be heard through his PAL. "All systems go. Waiting for permission to depart."

The outpost was suddenly rocked by a massive explosion. They all bore witness as the facility's structure slowly folded in on itself, leaving half the rock wall on which it had been built, sliding to the ocean floor.

"Sound the alert. Brace for impact."

The internal warning system was activated and they all prepared for the force of the water pushed out from the explosion. It was nothing like the impact made by a weapon directly on the _seaQuest's_ body, but the slight jarring was evidence that this was no small explosion. If the impact of the change in water pressure was enough to nudge a boat as large as _seaQuest_, it would most definitely have enough force to manipulate the small launch attempting to escape the outpost.

Tim breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the Macronesian transport intact in the water. Its course had been altered slightly, but it appeared not to have suffered any damage. He could only hope that Lonnie and Lucas had managed to get on board that sub before the outpost had been destroyed.

"Mr. O'Neill, hail the Macronesian sub. I want to speak with her captain."

"Yes sir." Before he could follow through with orders, a familiar sound alerted him that he had a call coming in. "Captain, they are hailing us."

"Put them on visual, Mr. O'Neill." The image of a middle age, slightly balding man, in the black and red uniform of the Macronesian Alliance filled the screen. "Captain Hudson, this is Captain Henry Barrow of the Macronesian ship _Plymouth_."

"Captain Barrow, I hope you have some good news."

"Well, Captain, it depends on if you are a half empty or half full kind of man." The Macronesian captain had everyone's attention, and he paused before continuing. "My mission team was able to get one of your crew on board their launch before the place was destroyed. They have informed me that they were unable to reach your second crew member in time."

Tim felt as though the air had completely been squeezed out of his lungs and he willed himself not to gasp in shock. All he could think of at this moment was _which one? Which one?_

Captain Hudson's voice did not betray any emotion. "Captain Barrow, do you know which of my officers they were able to retrieve and their condition?"

I don't know her name, but she's currently unconscious."

_Her_. It was Lonnie. O'Neill's hands were shaking slightly, and he only hoped that no one would notice. He gulped and for a brief moment, thought that he was going to be sick. Lucas didn't make it. Lucas was dead. No one could have survived that blast. If they had, they would have drowned once the water came flooding in. Tim crossed himself, offering a silent prayer for his friend.

All around the bridge, the shock and pain was evident on all their faces. Hudson took a deep breath, and leaned slightly onto his chair. "Captain, we appreciate your crew getting Lt. Henderson to safety. We would like to make arrangements to have her transported back to _seaQuest _as soon as possible."

"That can be arranged. The launch should be docking any moment. We'll have our medic evaluate her condition and we'll get back to you with more details. Out."

The screen went blank, and Hudson turned to face his crew. "Our first priority is to make sure that Lt. Henderson gets safely back to this boat." He pressed a button on his own panel. "Commander Ford."

"_Yes Captain," _

"Abort the rescue mission and send your team to the Ward Room. In light of the current situation, we will need to reevaluate our actions." He started walking purposefully towards the doors. "O'Neill, get me Secretary General McGath now. I'll be in my quarters. Lt. Commander Kimura, you have the bridge."

Those that remained wore identical expressions on their now pale faces. They all knew that the team's goal would now be classified as a search and recovery rather than rescue. Tim removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Just like when Brody died, their time to grieve would have to wait until the situation was no longer a threatening one. They had a duty to Lucas to bring his body home. He started the process of contacting UEO Headquarters, hoping that McGath would prove not to be too difficult to track down.


	8. Chapter 7

**A Note from the Author: Would it be a chapter without a little note from me? I think not. I restate my first disclaimer: I do not own _seaQuest_, any of the characters (except for Harrington), and I make no profit off of writing this. Second dicslaimer: I have no beta-reader so all mistakes are mine. If you find any doozies, point them out and I'll make the changes. Finally: I did a little re-negotiating of chapters and have made most of them longer. I promised this chapter when Chapter 18 (formerly Chapter 23) was complete. However, a little thing like an unexpected 17+ inches of snow in 24 hours, and the Federal Government shutting down, sort of put a hamper on my plans. In other words, I have not written a word of Chapter 18. Consider this an early Christmas/New Year's/Birthday present (Lucas' and mine). The BEST birthday present in the world for me will be some comments and reviews. Just hit the button at the bottom.**

**Chapter Seven**

Secretary General McGath's reaction was one of shock and disbelief. Of all the scenarios they'd considered, the destruction of the facility, with both parties present, was not one of them. An attack by Chaodai fightersubs, maybe. A trap laid by the Macronesians, more than likely. An internal explosion leading to the death of one of their officers and the complete collapse of the outpost in questions? It had not even crossed their minds.

Within minutes of Captain Hudson's debriefing to the head of the UEO Council, McGath had the UEO's best search and rescue/recovery team on course for _seaQuest's_ location. In the meanwhile, Commander Ford and his team were to head to the location immediately to see what they could recover in the interim. They were under strict orders to not only focus on the retrieval of Lucas' body, but also any evidence that could indicate how this could have happened. At this point, they had no indication that this was an attack on their team specifically, or if the outpost had been rigged to self-destruct when certain security details were breached.

Captain Hudson waited in Launch Bay with Dr. Perry and two medics carrying a stretcher, for the arrival of Lt. Henderson. In a follow up conversation with Captain Barrow, it became clear that Lonnie would be just fine. She was suffering the ill effects of smoke inhalation, and was currently still unconscious, but with a recovery period in Med Bay, she would be back to full health in no time.

***

Once relieved of duty, Tim made his way to Med Bay to check on Lonnie. He had the overwhelming urge to get away from the constant chatter between the search team and the boat, and the images and details they were being fed. Based on those images, the outpost was in even worse shape than they had imagined. Despite their EVA suits, the four-person team was having a difficult time maneuvering through the unstable structure. The one area they desperately wanted to get to – the space leading to the docking bay – appeared to be in really bad condition. The team focused on getting to the site of the initial explosion. They were basing their estimates on the information fed to them by their sensors early on in the mission and the witness reports shared by the Macronesian team.

Tim opened the door to Med Bay and made his way to where the only patient was resting. Dr. Perry had told him that Lonnie was breathing better and that her ventilator had been removed. She had regained consciousness for a short while earlier, but now she appeared to be sleeping peacefully. He pulled a chair up next to her bed and sat down. He remained there for a while, just watching her chest move up and down as she breathed. It wasn't long before she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, God. Tim. Lucas is gone. I couldn't get to him in time." She sobbed, unable to contain her emotions.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay." He held her hand, trying to soothe her.

"No, it's _not_ okay. _I_ was the commanding officer. It was my _duty_ to get him out of there safely with me." She broke into a fit of coughing.

Tim saw a pitcher on the side table and poured her a glass of water. She took it from him with a shaking hand.

"It's not your fault, Lonnie. You went back for him. Don't you remember?"

"Honestly Tim, I can't remember much after we started running for the launches." She looked at him with more unshed tears threatening to fall. "Everything is still hazy. I tried to tell the captain what I remembered, but it isn't much."

"The Macronesian soldiers who were with you said that you lost consciousness. They dragged you with them onto their launch. They didn't see Lucas."

Lonnie's eyes started to close. Dr. Perry had warned him that the medication she was given to help heal her lungs would make her drowsy. Before they closed completely, she had one last question to ask. "Have they found him yet, Tim? The search team?"

"No, not yet." He whispered in response. His friend was already asleep. Tim slipped quietly out, making sure he didn't wake her again. He found himself gravitating towards the Moon Pool - his frequent destination when seeking a place to think. This time, his purpose was to find Darwin. He wasn't sure how much of the situation the dolphin understood or if anyone had bothered to speak with him directly. With Tony on the search team, Tim was the only other person on board who would be best suited to talk to Darwin.

***

General Stassi crumpled the short print-out in his hand, and reached for his Vidlink. It was time to make the call. He dialed the number and waited for the person on the other end to answer. It didn't take long.

John Harrington stood in front of the screen. The non-descript background did not give his location away. "General."

"Mr. Harrington. I see you've made it to the facility without any trouble."

Harrington gave a slight nod, waiting for the general to continue.

"The mission was successful. The package is on its way. ETA is three hours."

"We'll be ready for delivery. Harrington out."

Stassi closed his own connection and opened a desk drawer. He pulled out a lighter – an antique that had once belonged to his grandfather – and proceeded to put the flame to the print-out. They were taking no chances with this mission. Under President Bourne's orders, every aspect must remain highly classified. Even to Stassi's highest ranking officers.

***

Tim found the dolphin swimming restlessly in tight circles. It was almost as though Darwin had been waiting for Tim, and his patience was wearing thin. Of course, he could have just imagined that expression on Darwin's face, but Tim knew from experience that the mammal was a lot more astute than most of the crew gave him credit for. Tim leaned over the wall of the tank, slipping his hand into the water. The dolphin immediately approached him, pushing his beak into the hand.

"Hey, Darwin."

Darwin turned his head to the side and shook his head and chattered.

"Sorry, let me just turn this on." Tim reached for the vocorder hanging up on the wall. It felt like ages since he'd last used it, but in reality it hadn't been more than a day or two. He fiddled with the switches and placed the device on the edge of the tank.

"Tim sad." Darwin's mechanical "voice" filled the empty room.

"Yes, Darwin. I'm sad."

"Why?"

Tim splashed water over the dolphin's head and rubbed his melon. He wasn't sure exactly how to address the animal, but figured a direct approach would probably be easier to translate.

"Darwin, do you know what we are doing here?"

" Lucas and Lonnie go to big rock. Loud noise. Fast water."

"Darwin," Tim paused. How do you tell a dolphin that his friend is dead? "Lucas didn't come back. He isn't coming back."

"Lucas lost?"

"No, Darwin." Tim shook his head. For a communications officer, the task of communicating with a dolphin was not going so well. He tried to think back to the time when Darwin was sick and dying. How had he referred to dying alone? That's right, something to do with light and dark. Light is dark and one.

"Lucas come back. Lucas always come back. Lucas not leave pod."

"Darwin. Lucas is gone. His light is dark. He's not coming back." Tim almost had to choke out his last words. "Lucas is dead, Darwin." Tim turned his back on the dolphin and pulled his glasses from his face. The tears that had been threatening to fall were now flowing freely. The only consolation was that there was no one there, besides Darwin, to witness this breakdown.

He felt a sudden splash of water on his back as the dolphin tried to get his attention.

"Lucas light not dark. Darwin _know_." Darwin swam agitatedly in the water towards the doors holding him inside _seaQuest_. "Tim let Darwin swim outside."

Tim sighed. He knew he couldn't let the animal out just yet. They had no idea what kind of impact the explosion had on the water quality and it could pose a threat to the dolphin.

"Not yet, Darwin. I'll check with Commander Ford when he gets back." Tim wiped the tears from his eyes as best he could, and replaced his glasses on his nose. Darwin did not respond to him, rather flipped his fluke and headed deeper into the boat through the aquatubes. If he could guess, he'd say that the dolphin was probably heading for the bridge.

Tim walked slowly back to his own quarters. Right now, he didn't really feel the desire to be around other people. As he made it up to the next deck level, he noticed Tony walking slowly towards his own room, dragging a towel behind him. The _seaQuest_ rescue team must have been relieved of duty now that the UEO SAR team had arrived. Tony looked exhausted, and Tim supposed that was as much to do with the shock of losing Lucas as it was to do with the time spent searching the wreckage.

Tim caught up with Tony and the two walked side by side, in silence. He gave the younger man a meek smile as Tony opened the door to the room he shared with Lucas. Tim kept walking further up the hallway to his own room.

He closed the door behind him with a thud, and sank onto his bunk. He put his head on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. The only thing he could think of now, was _who was going to call Captain Bridger?_ Tim was pretty sure that Lucas' parents weren't around anymore. It wasn't as though the younger man had ever really talked about them openly, but he seemed to remember Lucas mentioning something about both of their deaths after they'd returned from Hyperion. It was generally the role of the captain to inform family when a soldier lost his life. With Lucas being alone, the closest person he had to family was Captain Bridger.

Tim thought about the letter in the innocent white envelope currently sitting in his desk drawer; Lucas' letter to Captain Bridger. While he did not envy Hudson's task, he felt that his was just as just as bad. He was going to have to find some way of getting this letter – one that Bridger did not know existed – into his former captain's hands. The exhaustion of the past couple of days began to creep up on him and Tim didn't notice as he slowly drifted off into a restless sleep.

***

_He felt as though he was floating, completely detached from his body. It was soft and comfortable and he didn't want to leave wherever he was. As he slowly regained some sense of awareness of his limbs, he found that his peace was interrupted by an incessant buzzing in his ears. The buzzing began to increase in pace and volume, and he grimaced at the inability to escape the sound. He struggled to open his eyes, only to find he was blinded by the brightest of lights. Almost immediately, he squeezed them closed, muttering a moan. He flinched, aware of a tight pinch in his neck, and then succumbed to the darkness again._

***

Tim O'Neill woke with a start. He had fallen asleep, fully clothed, on his bunk and his glasses were sitting askew on his face. He was slightly disoriented and he straightened his glasses to see. For a moment, he thought he'd over slept his alarm and was late for shift, but a quick look at the clock eased that moment of panic. His PAL. He'd heard an alert from his PAL. Tim pulled the device out of his pocket and brought it closer to his face. "O'Neill here."

"Lt. O'Neill, please report to the Ward Room on the double." Ford's voice commanded from mini speaker. "Captain Hudson wants all senior officers on hand as soon as possible."

"Yes, Sir." Tim swung his legs over the bunk and placed his feet on the floor. He did a quick check to make sure he was presentable, and hustled out the door towards the Executive section of the boat.

The only person missing from the meeting was Lt. Henderson, and for good reason. She would probably remain in Med Bay for a few more days before moving her recovery to her quarters. The officers sitting at that table were white faced and grim. No one seemed comfortable looking anyone else in the eye, except for maybe Kimura. Unlike the others, she hadn't known Lucas for very long and her military training with the Chaodai was unconventional to say the least. She was definitely someone Tim never expected to see any emotion from.

Both Captain Hudson and Commander Ford were seated; an unusual sight as Hudson usually preferred to stand while addressing his officers. It took a moment for the silence to be broken.

"I was notified by the SARS team that they have recovered a body."

Everyone looked up in shock at the Captain the moment the words left his mouth. All except for Ford, who had been privy to the news when it came in a short while ago.

"They are in the process of transporting it back to _seaQuest_ as I speak. As of right now, they cannot identify the body as Ensign Wolenczak – it's too badly burned," Hudson paused, "but the _seaQuest_ combat uniform was readily identified at the scene."

Someone in the group – Tim couldn't tell who – cleared their throat. No one ventured to say anything in response even though they all had questions they wanted to ask.

"The UEO is sending in a team to investigate the incident further. Once they arrive, we have been instructed to return to New Cape Quest. The investigation will continue without our assistance and Captain Barrow of the _Plymouth_ has agreed to keep contact in case they can provide any additional information. As of right now, we have no reason to believe that the explosions on that outpost were malicious in nature. We have no reason to believe that the Macronesians are involved. But," and here the captain practically growled, "you can bet your ass that we are going to come after them with a vengeance if it turns out they were."

They all sat a little straighter. This was the kind of information they wanted to hear. Every one of them wanted to know that whoever was responsible for Lucas' death, would ultimately be held accountable.

"Right now, we are going to go back to regular rotations on duty. We will be setting course for New Cape Quest within the next two hours. I want all of you well rested before then. Dismissed."

Captain Hudson watched as his most senior officers filed out of the room. He'd have to watch for any indication how they, and the rest of seaQuest's crew, were going to handle "business as usual." He expected that a number of them might need bereavement counseling – and soon. It was not lost on him that a large number of them had formed an attachment with the ensign. Wolenczak had been a part of their crew since he was sixteen. Most of the men and women on board from that first tour under Bridger, had watched the young man grow up on the boat, and it was obvious that they harbored a soft spot for him.

"Commander, a word please." The captain grabbed his Ex-O's attention before he could step out of the room.

"Sir?"

"At ease, Commander. Sit down."

Commander Ford took the seat directly across from the captain and folded his hands on the table.

"Jonathan, it is highly unlikely that the body the SARS team found is _not_ Ensign Wolenczak."

"I'm prepared for that, Sir."

"Were you aware that Wolenczak had identified you as the executer of his estate?" Captain Hudson waited for Ford's reply and was slightly surprised to see that the younger man had no idea.

"What? He never asked me or told me." Ford looked slightly confused.

"It's not as official as it sounds, Commander. When Lucas filled out the paperwork to sign up for the UEO Navy, he had to identify someone to made decisions on his behalf if he were to become incapacitated, or worse. He happened to fill your name in that space."

It was difficult to faze the usually unflappable Jonathan Ford, but it appears as though this bit of information had done just that.

"I don't understand. Why not Captain Bridger?"

"I think you know the answer to that question better than anyone other than Wolenczak. Don't you?" The captain stood and placed a reassuring hand on Ford's shoulder before continuing, "I think you have a few decisions that need to be made before we head for "home." We anticipate that the UEO will want the funeral arrangements made sooner rather than later."

Ford just nodded numbly and a horrible thought entered his mind. "Sir, Lucas has no family. There is no next of kin to notify, but I think that Nathan Bridger should be told – officially – in their stead."

"And you would like to take on this responsibility." It was not a question.

"Yes Sir. I would."

"Fine. Let's head to Med Bay and get this over with." He sighed and added, "I'd rather we do this ourselves. Prevent the rest of the crew from having to do it."

Commander Ford pushed back from his chair and stood. This was a task he dreaded even more than notifying Captain Bridger. No one ever wants to have to identify the body of someone they care about.


	9. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **Happy New Year! A little present for all of you lovely readers and reviewers. Hopefully this will tide you all over for a while.

**Chapter Eight**

_Thick smoke. His eyes were burning, watering. He couldn't breathe. He was choking, suffocating on a thick blanket of grey smoke. Oh God, he couldn't see where he was, what he was doing. He couldn't stand. Pulling the dead weight of his body along the floor, he struggled to pull oxygen into his lung. He needed to get away; far away from the orange flames licking at the wall, threatening to lick at his feet, his legs, his body. What was that noise? Loud. It was hot, too hot. Ugh. Sharp pain. Make it stop, make it stop! _

Lucas rolled onto his side, trying to escape the flames, only to encounter a cold, hard, surface. He slowly came to his senses. His mind was foggy and he was having the hardest time just concentrating on his body, his thoughts. He gasped. He was lying on a cold cement floor in only his boxers and a t-shirt and he was absolutely freezing. In complete contradiction to the images of fire and smoke, he was bone-chillingly cold. It was this overwhelming discomfort that must have driven him from his disturbing dream and he found himself shivering and sweating simultaneously.

"Lonnie?" There was no response. Only silence. He was alone. Lucas slowly opened his eyes, taking a few seconds for them to adjust, and only a few seconds longer to realize that he could see nothing more than a few outlines in the darkness. _Where the hell was he?_

He tried to sit up, but as soon as he raised his head more than a few inches off the floor; he was assaulted with a stabbing pain behind his eyes, and the ensuing nausea. Lucas groaned and squeezed his eyes closed again. He wrapped his arms around his chest, and drew his knees in to his body, trying to keep himself as warm as possible. Lucas lay there, on the unforgiving ground, and tried to remember what had happened. Despite his hazy thoughts and difficulty concentrating, he knew he was not on _seaQuest_. He was also pretty sure he wasn't on _any_ submarine. There was no sound, not even a random creak. Usually, on a moving boat, you could hear the engines humming, the slap of shoes on metal gratings and the constant drone of activity in the background. Here, there was nothing. It was so quiet he could almost hear his own heart beating, his pulse racing in growing fear.

He remembered being at the outpost with Lonnie and their Macronesian counterparts. He remembered the loud warning sounds of the klaxon and…. and an explosion? Yes. There had been an explosion and they had rushed to the docking bay – to their launches. Then what? _Think_. There had been something wrong with a door – it had sealed – and he had to override the emergency code to open it. He was pretty sure they'd all made it through. _Oh God_. That's when they ran into the smoke. He remembered seeing flames languidly licking their way to the docking station. He dropped down; to get as low to the ground as possible to prevent smoke inhalation. Then, a sharp prick? Lucas raised hand and rubbed the back of his neck. Yes, there was a tender spot to the right of his spine. He must have been drugged, injected with something. There was no other possibility. Then they pulled them out of the outpost and stuck them here? Where was here anyway? Did those Macronesian soldiers do this to them? Was Lonnie in another room nearby?

Again, Lucas attempted to get his body into a seated position. He slowly rolled onto all fours and pushed himself back until he was sitting against a wall. The pain in his head had subsided to the point where it was a dull ache. He slowly rubbed his temples and got a better look at his surroundings. He appeared to be in a small room, no more than twelve by twelve. The floor and walls both concrete – a rarity since more cost effective and structurally sound materials had been developed in the past 20 years – and there appeared to be no furnishings. Only a metal door with a small window – covered from the outside. Lucas willed himself to his feet, swaying slightly. He managed to gain some balance and staggered to the door. He knew it was futile, but he had to check. Pulling on the door handle, he found it locked. This was not a surprise. It was a cell and he was a prisoner. Using the wall for leverage, he moved slowly to the back corner and slid his body down to the floor. He pulled his legs up, laying his cheek against his knees. Right now, the only thing he could do was to wait. Wait for someone to open that door and tell him what he was doing here and where Lt. Henderson was being held.

***

Commander Ford sat alone in the room, the Vidlink screen in front of him completely blank. He had opted not to make the call from his personal quarters, preferring the official setting of the small conference room off of the bridge. Captain Hudson had given him the freedom to make this call at his convenience, somehow understanding that his Ex-O needed some time to both process the information and to work up the courage to call his former commanding officer.

Ford did not want to postpone the unpleasant task any longer than he had to, but he did need the time to figure out exactly how he was going to tell Captain Bridger that Lucas, that cocky kid who was so full of excitement about his research when he'd first joined them on their 'adventures,' was dead. The military life had killed him, just as it had Bridger's son, Robert.

Taking a deep breath, Commander Ford typed the access codes he'd need to link with Bridger on his island. Based on his calculations, it wasn't too late in the waters off the Yucatan, but this was a call that was never welcomed at any hour.

He waited. It rang for longer than he wanted and he was tempted to terminate the call before it was answered. All it would take would be one press of a button.

The screen burst to life, and Nathan Bridger's sun-worn face came into view. When he saw it was Ford, he didn't smile. Good news never came this late at night from the UEO, especially if you were a retired officer.

"Jonathan. This certainly is a surprise. I take it this is not a courtesy call?"

Ford noted that while not unfriendly, Bridger was obviously not willing to trust the motives of the UEO anymore, even if the contact came in the form of one of his most trusted former officers.

"No, Captain. It certainly isn't." He took a deep breath and momentarily closed his eyes. Before he could even get the words out of his mouth, Bridger interrupted him.

"It's Lucas, isn't it?" Panic creeping into his voice.

"Yes sir. I'm really sorry to inform you, Captain Bridger, but Lucas was killed in the line of duty yesterday." Ford noted the change of color in Captain Bridger's face and the fact that he sat down, but he continued. He needed to get this out while he still had the strength to do so. "Both he and Lt. Henderson were selected to uncover some possible enemy intelligence and were caught in an explosion. Lt. Henderson suffered only minor injuries. Sir, Lucas didn't make it."

Captain Bridger did not respond. Rather, he placed his face in his hands and turned away from the screen. Ford did not know what else to say to his former commanding officer. There was nothing that could take this pain away – from any of them. He had at least had time to process the information. This was new to Captain Bridger, and his emotions were going to be as raw as theirs were when they'd first realized Lucas was dead.

Nathan Bridger rubbed his forehead and looked Commander Ford directly in the eye. Jonathan could see evidence of unshed tears. He was certain that they would have a chance to fall after the call was terminated, but Captain Bridger was a seasoned UEO officer who had had the unpleasant experience of giving similar news such as this to loved ones, as well as having received the news of his own son's death many years before.

It was almost as though Bridger hesitated before he spoke again. "Jonathan, did you recover his body?

"Yes sir. We are bringing him back to New Cape Quest for a memorial service and funeral. We should be there within 2 days."

"Okay. I need to make arrangements to be there. Let me know the details."

"Sir," Ford hesitated, "he _was_ a good soldier."

"I know. But he was a better man." Captain Bridger looked as though he'd aged in their 10-minute conversation. "Thank you, Jonathan, for being the one to call me. I know you didn't have to."

"Captain, it was never a choice." He gave Bridger the slightest hint of a sad smile.

"Bridger out."

The screen went blank and Ford resisted the urge to lay his head on the table. He was tired - no exhausted - and it appeared as though rest would not be coming anytime soon. Not only did he have arrangements to make for Lucas' final resting place, but also he knew he'd be haunted by dreams of the condition of the young ensign's body. He had been burned beyond recognition. Only his uniform gave his identity away.

Per UEO regulations, DNA analysis would have to be run and an official identification made. However, despite of the advanced resources available on _seaQuest, _they were now a fully military vessel and did not have the equipment available to run those tests. Regardless, both he and Captain Hudson were convinced that this was their young officer.

As an after-thought, Commander Ford wondered if there was anyone else he needed to notify of Lucas' death. Off the top of his head, he could only think of crew from their first tour together: Dr. Westphalen, Ben Krieg and Katie Hitchcock. He wasn't even sure where the doctor and Ben were these days, but he knew how to get a hold of Katie.

Ford shook his head in disbelief. He still couldn't fathom why Lucas had chosen him, of all the people on the boat and off, to take care of his last wishes. He didn't even know if the ensign wanted to be cremated or buried. Jonathan was going to give him the appropriate military send off, one fitting a good soldier and friend, and hope that it was what Lucas would have wanted.

***

He must have fallen asleep in that position, using the wall as support. Upon waking, he found himself to be even colder than before. He could feel the goose bumps on his legs and arms, and his teeth were chattering beyond his control. Despite the discomfort, Lucas didn't think his physical condition was what woke him. It had been a noise. Coming from the door. In a moment of clear thinking, Lucas realized that someone must have been coming to check on him. With a lot of effort, he dragged his stiff body back to standing and stood as tall as he could against the wall.

Lucas used whatever internal strength he had to plaster on his best poker face. He was not going to let whoever had shoved him in that little hole, know that he was even moderately unnerved. In reality, he was scared out of his mind; he just didn't think it would help him if they knew that. The unknown was truly frightening.

The door handle turned slowly – it was one of those round ones so prevalent in the early 21st century – and the door was pushed ajar. Fully expecting someone to step through it, Lucas was stunned to see nothing but a cup of water placed in the opening, before the door slammed shut. He didn't move. He wasn't sure if the door would open again, but the sound of a lock being turned in the key was enough evidence for him to believe that he was going to be left alone for a while longer.

Lucas eyed the water suspiciously. He was incredibly thirsty. He licked his lips with anticipation and suddenly realized how thick and dry his tongue actually was. He had no idea how long he'd been in this cell, or how long ago they'd attempted to evacuate the outpost, and therefore had no idea when the last was that he'd had anything to eat or drink. Lucas moved slowly towards the cup and picked it up. He sniffed it and swirled it around, trying to determine if it had been drugged or poisoned. He couldn't detect anything wrong with it, but there were countless odorless and tasteless poisons that could have been used. At this point, he desperately wanted to drink the water. Lucas decided that it was a risk worth taking. Dying of dehydration is a slow and painful process. If the water was drugged or poisoned, at least his death would come faster. Anyway, why would they bother to take him prisoner if they just wanted him dead? They'd had plenty of opportunity while he was unconscious.

He took a small tentative sip. Nothing. Then another larger sip. Still nothing. Lucas gulped down the rest as fast as he could, and then wished for more. Lucas felt as though the water, and time, had given his muddled mind the chance to clear somewhat since the first time he woke up in the room. He took a moment to consider what he knew. If the building materials in the room, and the old-fashioned doorknob were any indication of where he was being held, it was probably somewhere upworld and someplace that had a long history. You don't just decide to build a prison made of concrete and bricks anymore. Just the task of finding the materials would be daunting.

He placed the cup back on the ground and took a better look at the small, confined space. Other than the four walls and door, there was nothing conspicuous. He squinted, scanning the area where the walls met the ceiling. Nothing but an air vent, and there, hidden in a dark corner, was what appeared to be a camera. So, they were watching him. That just made him fell even more uneasy – like a fish in a fishbowl. Right now, there was nothing he could do about it. The camera was raised high enough off the ground that he couldn't even reach it if he jumped. He'd need something to stand on, like a chair or a table. He had neither of those.

Lucas suddenly realized that that small camera was the only thing electrical or computerized in the room. The lock on the door was mechanical, when modern locks were usually reliant on computer chips and technology. Who didn't have a retina, voice, or handprint scan secured system anymore? Even those that came before the advanced security systems relied heavily on multi-digit codes. Either he was in someplace really old and rustic, or someone out there knew him well. He examined the lock closely, taking note of the small opening for the old fashioned key, and the mechanical pins hidden within. Without anything thin and hard to pick it, there was no chance of getting that lock released. Even if he did have the right tools, he'd never _had_ to pick such an old lock before. It was a far cry from manipulating the electronics of modern security systems.

Lucas groaned inwardly and sat back down again. He leaned his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. He needed to think of a plan, and fast; a plan of action for when that door opened again. He pushed his hair out of his face and behind his ears in frustration. It was practically impossible to plot any sort of approach when he didn't even know who had put him there or why. Lucas set his jaw and realized that the best thing he could do right now was wait. He would wait for someone to come to him, to engage him in conversation. He knew that even if he said nothing, he could hope to glean some bit of information from the questions they asked him. At least that's what he hoped.

***

The next day, Tim O'Neill sat hunched over at his person computer in his quarters, elbows on the desk and his head buried in his hands. If he looked up, he would see the constantly fluctuating graph of the audio file he was analyzing. He'd been at this for hours, and his eyesight had started to blur a while ago. He decided that his quarters would provide the most amount of privacy for the task, and in this case, he really didn't want any interruptions or noise. His computer was already set up with advanced communications programs and Tim had managed to get his hands on the rest of the equipment he'd need.

Tim had pulled the recorded mission data from both Lonnie and Lucas' microphones and was running them through a filtering system. It was painstakingly slow work, as he had to isolate frequencies, and listen to them individually. Most of what he'd managed to pull out was useless. It was monotonous and boring work, but he hoped that in the end, he'd have something to show for it. Right now, he was just hoping for some inkling of an explanation as to what happened to Lucas when he got separated from Lonnie. If he was lucky, he'd get some audio on what, or who, had caused the first blast, which initiated the warning system. Even though _seaQuest_ had been pulled out of the official investigation, they were not willing to concede all ownership to the outside team that the UEO had sent. Tim was well qualified to do the audio analysis himself so why let the data sit for several days while the investigators focused on the site when he could get started right away?

The _seaQuest_ had set coordinates for the coast of Florida early that morning and they were scheduled to make port by mid morning the next day. Besides his mandatory duty shifts, Tim did not have much planned for the time before they made their berth. He figured that he had as much time as it took them to get to New Cape Quest for him to dig through the audio from the mission. So engrossed with the mind-numbing task, he hadn't even bothered to make it to the mess for lunch.

A loud thumping at his door caused Tim to raise his head from his hands. He slipped the headphones off his ears and sat up straight.

"Come in."

It was Tony.

"Hi Tony."

"Hey, Tim. I knocked, but you didn't answer. I figured you couldn't hear me with those things on."

"Yeah. Sorry. Wanna sit down?"

Tony sat on the open bunk, his shoulders hunched and his head hung low. This was not the Tony Piccolo he was used to. It was obvious that Tony was upset and hurting as much as he was. At least he didn't have the constant reminder that Lucas was dead every time he went to his own quarters. Tim didn't even want to imagine how it felt to see Lucas' things lying around, as though he was coming back to claim them. Tony stared at his knees and picked at an errant piece of thread. They were both silent.

"Have you heard anything? About the investigation?" Tony looked up at Tim. He didn't look hopeful rather he looked like he'd lost his best friend - exactly what had happened. There was nothing that could make any of them grieve for Lucas less, but answers would go a long way to getting them closure.

"No, nothing. You?"

"Nah. Just that the team had arrived to relieve us." He went back to picking at the thread. "I offered to stay, to help out in the water. Gills, you know."

"I take it they said no?"

"Yeah." Tony stood back up and walked over to the equipment set up on the desk. "What are you working on?" He leaned into the monitor and took a closer look at graph of color, paused and motionless.

"I'm going through all the audio from the mission to see if I can hear anything unusual – anything I didn't hear the first time." Tim swiveled his chair back around to the desk and flipped a few switches.

"You find anything yet?" Tony's interest was visibly piqued.

"Not yet." Tim pulled his glasses off, and rubbed his face before putting them back on his nose. "But I'm not even a quarter of the way through Lonnie's recording. I haven't even opened Luc – Lucas' yet." He cleared his throat and turned away from Piccolo. "It's going to be a while."

"Oh." Tony turned towards the door and stopped. "You want to grab a bite to eat in mess? I just got off duty and I, um, don't really feel like going back to my bunk yet."

Tim looked knowingly at the younger man and gave a small smile. "Yeah. Sure." It couldn't hurt either of them to have a little friendly company right now. Maybe he'd swing by Lt. Henderson's room on the way back – to check to see how she was doing.

***

The door slammed against the wall with a loud BANG and Lucas woke with a start. He scrambled to get his feet under him, but he wasn't fast enough. Two large men lunged for him. One grabbed his arms, twisting them behind his back and binding them, while the other shoved a rough canvas bag over his head. He didn't even get enough time to take a look at them before his vision was completely obscured.

"Let me go!"

Lucas was yanked up to his feet harshly, and shoved towards what could only be the door. He stumbled, unable to catch himself with his own hands, but felt a firm grip on his upper arm before he could fall to the ground. He tried to wrench his arm out of the man's grip, but could not shake him. He refused to move without a fight, even though he knew it was futile. Neither of the men spoke to him. Rather, they half dragged and half pushed him forward.

He grunted as he was shoved back onto something hard. A chair. His hands were released for a short moment before being pulled back behind the back of the chair and rebound, possibly with a zip-tie. The bag still over his head, he couldn't see anything. Instead, he heard another door click softly closed. The room was quiet except for the sound of his own blood rushing furiously through his veins. Then, the door opened again, and he heard footsteps. Possibly just one set. _God, just take this thing off of my head, _he screamed internally.

His unheard plea was granted as the bag was ripped quickly off of his head. He was suddenly assaulted with a blinding white light and turned his head away, squeezing his eyes closed involuntarily. After being in that small dark room for god knows how long, his eyes were not used to the brightness directed at him. Very slowly, he turned his head back to facing immediately forward and opened his eyes. He pressed his lips together and waited.

The man in front of him slowly came into focus. He assumed it was one of the guys that had just dragged him from the other room. He was big. Huge. Not quite the size of Dagwood, but he'd venture pretty close. It was difficult to discern any particular details about the man due to the light in his eyes – the man was in the shadows – but he got enough of an image. He had short shaven hair and tattoos running up both arms, and he wore civilian clothes. Not withstanding the lack of a uniform, he looked military to Lucas. It was unnerving having the man stand there, stiffly, and not say anything. In fact, he was looking at a spot behind Lucas, not directly at him.

Lucas chewed his lip nervously, his eyes darting around the room. It appeared to be exactly the same as the first. In fact, if it weren't for the chair he was tied to, he'd say it was the same room; down to the placement of the air vent and a camera mounted on the wall. There were no marking, no indication of where they were.

The door opened again and another man stepped in. This one was definitely not one of the two that had pulled him unceremoniously out of his cell. He was of average height, but slim. He too was dressed in civvies, but he didn't exude the same military image as the tattooed guy. This man appeared very non-threatening, and even smiled slightly at Lucas before giving the larger man a slight nod. With this gesture, the tattooed guy stepped to the side, and stood against the wall.

"Mr. Wolenczak. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

Lucas couldn't quite place it, but the voice was familiar. Had he met this man before?

The man looked him directly in the eye, and Lucas felt that in that brief moment, he was being analyzed. "You are probably wondering what you are doing here; _where_ you are." He paused, "my employer is very interested in you, Mr. Wolenczak, and has been for a while. We brought you here to offer you some options. For your future."

He was confused. This man was not asking him questions. Was not interrogating him. They didn't want anything from him?

"Where is Lt. Henderson?"

"Ah, he speaks. Your former crewmate is back on her boat. No need to worry about her. It is in your best interest to worry about yourself instead."

"Let me go. You have no right to hold me. I have done nothing illegal." Lucas glared at the man in front of him. He didn't know for certain if he could trust him well enough to believe that Lonnie had been released, or she had even been taken in the first place. Lucas needed to believe that she was safe.

"Mr. Wolenczak, Lucas. May I call you Lucas?" He did not stop for an answer. "We would like you to join us. We can make this easy or we can make this very difficult. What do you say? Make it easy for everyone?

Lucas did not know who he was supposed to be considering joining. He didn't even know why they wanted him. What he did know was that he had no interest in helping any person, or group, who felt it necessary to kidnap someone and hold them against their will. What was very obvious at this point was that the "mission" had been a decoy; a means in which to get their hands on him. _But why?_ Regardless, they were not getting anything from him. The soldier in him, and the advice from Commander Ford kicked in. His resolve was set.

"Wolenczak, Lucas. Ensign. UEO Navy. Serial number 8739492."

"Hmm. I see that in the short period of time you've been enlisted in the UEO, you've already been brainwashed with their protocol. We're not the bad guys here, Lucas. In time, you will come to see that."

His tone was not harsh, nor was it threatening. It was quite the opposite. The man was almost…almost _sympathetic_?

"I'm sorry you have to make this harder on yourself." He nodded at the man standing quietly against the wall, and retreated through the door he'd entered.

The sneer that spread across the tattooed man's face was enough to indicate that nothing good was to follow. Lucas did not have time to react before a large fist was thrown into his face, knocking his head back. He bit back a grunt and straightened his head to look ahead again. He could feel the throbbing in his cheek and the tingling as his body slowly reacted to the sudden attack. Lucas found himself staring at the man in front of him, knowing exactly what was about to happen. The punches came one at a time, and slowly. It was as though the man was giving him enough time for the pain register in his brain before he was hit again.

After a handful of knocks to the head and nose, Lucas stopped being able to hold back his grunts and gasps. He could feel his one eye slowly closing, the pressure of the swelling preventing him from holding his eyelid up. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, and he spat on the floor, relieved for a short break between punches. Lucas took a deep breath. He could barely hold his head up anymore and he knew he was on the verge of passing out. Out of the corner of his good eye, he watched the tattooed man pace back and forth in front of him, and then stop.

"You ready to play nice? Have another conversation with the Boss?" The tattooed man crossed his arms in front of his body.

Lucas managed a strangled whispered response. "Wolenczak, Lucas. Ensign. UEO Navy. Serial number 8739492."

"I'm going to take that as a 'no.'" The man cocked an eyebrow and leaned into Lucas as he landed a punch in his abdomen.

Lucas doubled over as far as he could with his hands secured behind the backrest of the chair as the air was driven out of his lungs. Dark spots danced in front of his eyes and he gasped for breath. He felt two more punches to the same part of his body before he felt himself being pulled into darkness. His already impaired vision started to narrow and he knew he was about to pass out; his chin dropped to his chest. He was too tired to hold it up anymore.

Lucas slowly became aware of some murmurings, but did not even notice as the door opened and someone walked in. He didn't feel his hands released from the bindings and he was only vaguely aware of the bag being placed back on his head. He certainly didn't fight as he was dragged back to his cell. He was dropped into the back corner with little care. Lucas pulled his legs into his body and curled into a ball, the dull pain expanding and radiating over his torso. He stopped trying to fight his body's desire to shut down and gratefully accepted the sweet blanket of unconsciousness.


	10. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes: Cue the trumpets, my fine friends, I have finished Chapter 18. As promised, here is the prize for that milestone. There is an "issue" in this chapter that needs to be addressed. Once you've read this little ditty, read my note at the bottom. Advanced apologies. Again, I don't own seaQuest or any of the identifiable characters. Again, unbeta'd. I do, however, want to thank all of you who have graciously provided comments and words of encouragement. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Extra thanks to CFVici who has provided a much needed sounding board for me to bounce ideas (and complaints) agains. Enjoy peeps.**

**Chapter Nine**

O'Neill punched the pause button in frustration and stood up to stretch his legs. He paced back and forth in front of his bunk, working out the kinks in his neck as he did. He'd been back in his quarters running through the communications feeds without a break since he'd returned from the mess. The atmosphere of the dining hall was almost foreign. The crew was quiet and subdued; no one was laughing, no one appeared to be joking. They were close to homeport now, and all knew the reason why. This was no pleasure run back home and no one was going to get shore leave. If they were to leave the confines of _seaQuest_, it would be to attend the funeral of one of their own. He was actually happy to get back to his room and back to reviewing the hours of audio he still had to go through.

Tim had just finished going through Lucas' feed. Countless times. He had found nothing. Tim dropped back into his chair and tried something different. He changed the frequency band, isolating a small background noise on Lonnie's communications. It was something that he kept noticing each time he'd gone through the tapes, however he hadn't been able to identify it yet. It was probably something picked up from the equipment in the room where they had been working but he needed to check everything. Leave no stone unturned, right? He fiddled with a few dials and tweaked the volume. He pulled the cursor back and the screen and listened as the isolated sound filtered through his earphones.

_What was that? _Tim started it back up again and played it from the beginning. _There it was again_. He was pretty sure that he was hearing voices in the background. O'Neill made a few more adjustments, until finally he got what he wanted. _Yes! _Those were definitely voices and they did not belong to Lucas or Lonnie. Tim furrowed his brow, working desperately to get the voices to the point where he could pull out discernable words. Based on the time on the audio file, these voices were picked up by the microphone approximately 45 seconds after Lonnie had stopped responding.

Finally, he could hear the voices clearly. Tim rewound and listened over an over again until could identify what was being said. He frowned. There were two distinct voices and they were not speaking English. In fact, he wasn't quite sure he'd heard this language before. Tim racked his brain of the plethora of languages in his repertoire, and found that it was a derivative of Dutch. He wasn't fluent in the language, far from it, but he had a good enough working knowledge of Dutch that he felt he could translate it - with a bit of effort. Pulling a pad of paper and pencil from his desk drawer, Tim set about writing the transcript of the dialogue.

Less than an hour later, Tim stared at what he'd written down in front of him. He was pretty sure that he'd managed to get every word on paper, although he wasn't too sure if he had the spelling correct. He looked at the original language and the English translation next to it:

_Gryp hulle altwee _(Grab them both).

_Is nie wat ans gaan verlaat die meisie?_ (Aren't we going to leave the girl?)

_Nee, se sy kom saam met ons. Sal ons die hand oor haar voorkoms_ (No, she's coming with us. We'll hand her over later)

_Wat van hom?_ (What about him?)

_Hy's wat vervoer word uit onmiddellik_ (he's being transported immediately)

O'Neill grabbed the sheet of paper and headed directly for the bridge. Commander Ford was on shift right now and he needed to speak to both Ford and the captain. If he was interpreting this correctly, then the explosion at the outpost was definitely not an accident or an abandoned security feature. It sounded like someone knew exactly what they were doing and those people must have been the two Macronesian soldiers with Lucas and Lonnie.

***

Tim O'Neill stood at attention in front of the table in Hudson's personal quarters. It was rare that he ever be invited into this room. The last time had not been for the most pleasant of conversations. It was immediately after Lt. Commander Kimura had defected from the Chaodai and he was certain he was going to be asked to resign from _seaQuest_. Thankfully, that had not been the case, but it was still an unpleasant memory.

Captain Hudson leaned over the table, reviewing the translation in front of him.

"Sir, I believe they were speaking Afrikaans. For all practical purposes, it's a 'dead' language from South Africa. Stopped being spoken by the majority of the population a number of years back. It originated from Dutch when the country was first colonized." Tim did not budge from his position.

"Mr. O'Neill, do you feel as though you've translated this accurately?" Captain Hudson straightened up to look at Tim directly.

"Yes, I mean, I think so sir. I'm not fluent in Afrikaans, and I'm not even fluent in Dutch, but I'm pretty sure this is right. Afrikaans isn't the most complex language." Tim was slightly flustered.

"Do you have any idea what this implies, Mr. O'Neill?"

Tim looked at the captain, then at Ford who was re-reading the transcript, and then back to the captain. "Yes sir. At least I have a pretty good idea, sir."

"Alright, Lieutenant, let's hear it."

Tim took a deep breath before he spoke. Captain Hudson made him nervous and he could feel the sweat starting to bead on his brow.

"I think it implies that Lucas is alive, sir." He looked Hudson directly in the eye, and the captain raised one eyebrow in either interest or amusement. "I think this whole mission was a set-up. The Macronesians planned the whole thing just to get their hands on Lucas."

"And what makes you say that, Mr. O'Neill?

"Captain, the one man was surprised that they were taking Lonnie as well as Lucas. She doesn't appear to be their target. They mentioned transporting Lucas. But we know that it was the SARS team that found the body at the site. The Macronesians said they didn't see him and just pulled Lonnie into the safety of the launch. If it wasn't to their sub, then where did they take him? "He knew he wasn't making the clearest argument, but he could tell from the expression on Ford's face that the commander agreed with at least part of what he was saying. Tim continued, "Sir, I don't think the body we're transporting home is Lucas. I think he's been taken somewhere else."

Captain Hudson pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. He drummed his fingers on the wooden surface, thinking.

"At ease, O'Neill. Sit down."

Tim sat across from the captain, not sure where this was going.

"Mr. O'Neill. I agree with you - in part. I think that this entire assignment was a cover for something else entirely. But we already expected that to be the case. I also agree that we are going to have to put a rush on the formal identification of the body we have on board." He squinted his eyes and leaned back into his chair. "I am not convinced, however, that Wolenczak is still alive. We have no evidence. And until we do, I do not want to get the hopes up of every person on board. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

"For now, this information stays in this room. I don't want anyone else to know about this until we get a chance to discuss this further with McGath." The captain dropped his voice low, "_If_ the Macronesians are behind this and _if_ Wolenczak is being held prisoner, then I don't want them to know that _we_ know."

Commander Ford addressed the captain, "Sir, we should continue with the funeral as though the body is Lucas?"

"That's an affirmative, Commander. We just won't have a body to bury." Hudson smacked the table with his open hand. "We are going to find out exactly what is going on here, and I'm going to start with McGath. Mr. O'Neill, let's see if we can get a link with him immediately."

It was late, approximately 2300 hours on Eastern Standard Time, and took slightly longer than business hours to get McGath on vidlink. When he finally did appear in front of them, the Secretary General looked slightly annoyed.

"Captain Hudson, this had better be important." It was not often that this man showed evidence of irritation, but it was apparent that he was not happy with the current intrusion.

Hudson stood in front of the screen, hands behind his back. Both O'Neill and Ford sat at the table behind him.

"Sir," Hudson's voiced betrayed his own frustration, "I would not have bothered you if I did not think this was important."

"Fine. What is it that couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

"Our Communications Chief, Lt. O'Neill, has uncovered some information that I feel is both important to the investigation into the failed mission in the Indian Ocean, and has possible implications regarding Ensign Wolenczak."

McGath sat a little straighter in his seat, his interest visibly piqued. "What kind of information?"

"We have proof that the Macronesians were involved in the disappearance of Wolenczak. The body found at the site may very well not be his. I'm requesting permission to expedite the formal identification of the body and if it proves not to be our ensign, to pursue any and all leads in bringing him home."

"Captain, you were ordered to hand the investigation off to the team sent in specifically for that purpose." McGath sighed. He knew it was pointless continuing with this argument. "Fine. Exactly what did you find?"

Captain Hudson turned to Tim to give his explanation of their findings. "Mr. O'Neil?"

Fifteen minutes later, the four men sat in silence.

"Lieutenant, I want that audio and your translations as soon as possible. Make sure you send them on a highly secured and encrypted line."

"Yes, sir."

McGath then turned his attention back to the captain. "You believe that Lucas Wolenczak is still alive?" The Secretary General did not look convinced.

"Sir, I believe that we were played from the beginning. We were used to serve a purpose and they have conveniently sent us on our way. I think we should be highly suspicious of the fact that they have been completely accommodating, especially in the return of Lt. Henderson to _seaQuest_. If you remember, Sir, we had to a rescue team to rescue her before her execution by the Macronesians a few months back." Hudson paced back and forth in front of the monitor. "Until those DNA results come back and verify that we have Wolenczak on board, I don't think that any of us should assume that it is him." Hudson paused and looked at the man on the screen. "Secretary General, I think that Wolenczak is alive and I think the Macronesians want us to think he's dead."

Again, there was silence in the room. McGath was the first to break it.

"What reason would President Bourne have to abduct an _ensign_ in the UEO Navy, and fake his death?"

"With all due respect, Sir, we aren't talking about any ensign here. This is Wolenczak. He was well known before _seaQuest_ went missing, and he, along with the rest of them, became household names when they returned. If memory serves me correctly, Wolenczak was notorious for getting his hands on highly classified UEO information without permission."

"You think that Bourne would go out of his way to kidnap and fake the death of a nineteen going on thirty year old low level UEO officer who has lost ten years of his life? Someone with outdated computer skills, no access to classified information and has very little knowledge of the history, politics and basic UEO intelligence from the last ten years?

McGrath gave Hudson a highly incredulous look. It was obvious that while he had respected Lucas' genius as a teenager, McGath no longer believed Lucas was capable of great things.

Captain Hudson shook his head slightly and briefly made eye contact with O'Neill and Ford. All three knew that while Lucas had lost a lot of time and had a lot of time to make up for, he should not be written off as easily as the UEO had so obviously done.

"Secretary General, I believe you have grossly underestimated Wolenczak's intelligence and skill level. You are right that he's had a lot to catch up on in regards to politics and technology, but he is a fast learner. He may not have the opportunity to hack into systems under my command as he did under Bridger's, but that does not make him any less capable. From what I've seen in this short time, and from what I know from his first two tours with _seaQuest_, Wolenczak has the potential to destroy the UEO."

Hudson gave McGath a minute before continuing. "Mr. Wolenczak has the ability to break into any UEO classified data, if he hasn't already, and no one would be the wiser."

"Lucas is the one that developed most of the security features for the computers on _seaQuest_ and installed everything else we have." Ford interjected.

"Some of that was used in UEO Headquarters too," O'Neill added.

McGath had visibly paled, and Hudson continued. "If Bourne has done his research well, he'd also know how valuable Wolenczak could be." The captain paused again and stood taller. "I think I'm beginning to agree with Mr. O'Neill. I don't think Wolenczak is dead. I think that Bourne is going to try and use him. To get to _seaQuest_, the UEO – I'm not sure – but I think he knows what Wolenczak is worth alive."

"Captain, I'm still not convinced that Lucas is still alive. However, if you are correct, the UEO cannot afford for him to be in the wrong hands. Give me some time to do a little research. To find out how this whole mission came to the UEO. I'll see what channels were pulled in and if we can find out anything more. In the meanwhile, I want this kept quiet. This is now officially top secret. Until we find out how deep this goes and who is involved, I don't want anyone to discuss the possibility that Lucas is alive. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Hudson responded, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, and Captain," McGath added, "go ahead with the funeral as planned. Don't raise suspicions." He was just about to end the link when Hudson added,

"Secretary General, _seaQuest_ would like to be given the orders to bring Mr. Wolenczak home."

Both men in the room with him knew what Hudson was saying. McGath did too. There was no way they'd leave one of their own, even if it was a body they were retrieving. This was their crew member – a part of their family – and they wanted to make sure that they were involved in every aspect of the investigation and his rescue.

McGath nodded in acceptance and ended the call.

**Author's End note: To any and all South Africans or Afrikaans speakers. It has been YEARS since I had to study the language and am pretty sure I've done a fine job in butchering it. Honestly, the only place on earth I've ever found myself needing to study the language was in school in SA and I haven't been able to find classes to polish up what I learned as a kid, here in my corner of the USA. If you read the "conversation" above, and it makes no sense to you, I'd love to get a proper translation of what I want them to say. Send it via PM or comment. I accept annonymous reviews.**


	11. Chapter 10

**Author's Notes: Okay. I wasn't going to post this until I got halfway through the chapter I'm currently writing. However, CF Vici can be VERY convincing. If you're happy to see this new chapter, you can thank her for twisting my arm and getting it posted early. It's a short chapter, and not very exciting, but not every chapter can be ;)**

**Chapter Ten**

Lucas groaned in pain. His stomach muscles were on fire and he struggled to move. He was back lying on the cold cement floor, his legs pulled into his body for warmth or protection – maybe both. He wrapped his arms around his middle – a futile attempt to protect himself from more pain. Lucas slowly opened his eyes. At least, he opened one of them. His other eye had swollen completely shut. Pulling a hand out from his torso, he tentatively palpated the closed eye and surrounding bones. It hurt like a bitch, and was probably mottled black and blue, but the orbital bone didn't feel broken. His nose was also swollen and he had a fat lip, but again, nothing too serious. In fact, despite the aches and pains associated with the short-lived beating – _was that yesterday? This morning? _He couldn't remember – nothing appeared to be broken. That at least was good news.

Regardless, it took quite a bit of effort to pull himself back into a seated position against the wall. Lucas closed his eye, shivering in the cold. He pulled his legs back into his chest and winced with sudden pain. Leaning his head back, he took in his all too familiar accommodations, and frowned. There was something different about the room, but what that difference was he couldn't quite place. He closed his one working eye again, his head unwilling to deal with the bright light. _Light! _The room was now flooded with light. Every other time he'd woken up, the room had been completely dark, requiring some time before his sight became acclimated. Now, it was so bright you could make out the cracks in the floor and the drip marks on the walls.

Lucas lowered his forehead back to his knees. He was just so tired, and sore, and hungry. His stomach was starting to churn with every growl, and his tongue was thick in his mouth. He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been in the room – how long he'd been held captive – but he knew that the one cup of water he'd been given was not enough. At the temperature of this room – cold – he knew he could probably live for ten or eleven days without water. Given eight ounces a day, he could probably last a little longer than that. However, he'd soon start to feel the effects of dehydration. Lucas wasn't as concerned about the lack of food. He'd die of dehydration before he'd starve to death.

The thought of dying in this small cold cell, in God knows where, was frightening. He didn't know what these people wanted from him but he knew that someone would be looking for him. They'd never just leave him behind. They hadn't when Lonnie had been held by the Macronesians after the Spindrift incident, and they hadn't when Piccolo had ended up in the jungle of South America. They'd come for him eventually. He only had to keep quiet and hold on until they did.

***

Tim paced up and down the metal flooring of the corridor leading to the launch bay. A week had passed since Lucas had been declared dead, and it had been five days since they'd notified the Secretary General of the possibility that he wasn't. Since then, they'd been waiting for any indication that they could head for open water in search of their missing crew member. McGath had done some digging – unofficially – and had managed to find out that no one knew anything about the mission _seaQuest_ had been assigned other than it had come from "high up." That basically translated to Section Seven and that was where the roadblocks appeared. McGath could tell them that the DNA test came back inconclusive. This was not surprising as DNA evidence was no longer the panacea it had once been. Up until 2009, it was considered the Holy Grail in court. In 2009, scientists proved that DNA could be manufactured and manipulated in a laboratory environment; now it was one of many tools that could be used to prove identity, but not the only one. The dental records provided little more to go on. Like the DNA, the results of the dental records were questionable.

Now, they waited for anything that could help them find Lucas. Tim was frustrated and nervous. As he paced up and down the hallway in his winter blue dress uniform, he didn't realize he was attracting attention. At this point in time, he was really just focused on one thing: the piece of paper in his hand and the person he was supposed to give it to. He was torn. On one hand, he felt as though it was premature for him to give this letter to Bridger, especially given the possibility that Lucas may still be alive somewhere. On the other, no one was supposed to know that the body they were going to bury at sea might not be their crewmate.

Tim sighed, paused momentarily, and then continued pacing. Yes, he needed to give the letter to their former captain. If Lucas was still alive, and they managed to bring him home, hopefully what he'd written in the letter could help mend whatever damage had been done to their relationship. Tim wasn't blind, and neither were the rest of Lucas' friends. They all saw the weight the dissolution of Lucas and Bridger's relationship had on him. They all knew how much it hurt the younger man that the person he most respected and loved was angry that he joined the navy. Yes. If this letter could help bring them closer in the end, it was worth his discomfort in passing it on.

"Tim, whatcha doin'?" Dagwood's voice echoed down the hall. Tim stopped, almost surprised that he was not alone, and turned to the large man holding a mop.

"Hi Dagwood. Sorry, I didn't see you there. I'm just thinking." Tim slipped the paper into the pocket inside the jacket and smiled unconvincingly at the Dagger.

"You look sad, Tim. Why are you sad?"

"I'm not sad." Then he paused when he realized what he had just said. "Actually, I am sad. I'm sad and I'm angry and I miss Lucas."

"Um, I miss Lucas too." The large Dagger dropped his head and hunched his shoulders. "Why are you angry?

This was a harder question for Tim to answer. "I'm angry because Lucas and Lonnie should never have been sent to that outpost. They should never have been in that explosion and we shouldn't have to have a memorial service and funeral to attend. I'm angry because none of this had to happen." He took a deep breath. Silently he added, _and I'm scared to death of having to give Captain Bridger Lucas' letter._

"Oh. Tony is angry too. And sad. Everyone is sad."

Tim turned his attention back to the Dagger. Sometimes, in his own selfishness, he forgot that others were mourning. Tim was convinced that the younger man was alive somewhere, feeling completely alone and forgotten, while the rest of the crew were grieving his death.

Tim glanced at Dagwood again. When he realized that Dagwood was wearing his usual service clothes, he frowned. "Why aren't you dressed, Dagwood?"

Dagwood looked down at his clothes and then back at Tim in confusion. "I'm dressed. See?"

"No, I meant why aren't you dressed for the funeral?"

"Um, Dagwood doesn't have anything else to wear." The large man looked concerned and suddenly aware of the fact that he was not dressed appropriately for the occasion. Tim looked up at him in sympathy and with a hint of humor.

"Let's go to the Navy supply office. I'm sure we can find something large enough for you just for today. You'll need to order something for yourself for the future though. You are an enlisted submariner now."

***

Lucas was tired, hungry, thirsty and filthy. He didn't know how long he'd been kept in that tiny room. Over time, he'd come to realize that they were turning the lights on during the day, and turning them off at night. At least, that's what he thought they were doing. If the days were somehow longer or shorter than 24 hours, he'd never know. At this point, he wasn't sure if he even cared. All he cared about was the added heat the lights provided when on, and that cup of water that was placed inside of his door when he was sleeping. One cup a day. That's all he got. No food, just the water. He lived for that water. Waited for it and tried to savor every drop.

Lucas knew he was starting to feel the effects of dehydration. He was dizzy and nauseous most of the time and his heart rate was uncharacteristically high. His tongue felt thick and lethargic and it was an effort to swallow. He was pretty sure that he wouldn't really be able to speak even if he wanted to. Right now, his voice was nothing but a croak. Not that anyone expected him to. Since the first contact with the men who held him captive, they hadn't even bothered to question him. They'd left him completely alone.

He coughed, feeling the rawness in the back of his throat. Recently, he'd started having short coughing fits – his chest getting tighter and tighter each day. He knew his body was working hard, dealing with the lack of food and water, and trying to stay warm. His immune system was severely compromised and he just hoped the coughing was not a sign of impending illness on top of his current misery.

Lucas shuddered, a sudden chill causing goose bumps to pop up on his arms and legs. Absently, he rubbed the exposed flesh on his arms, trying to warm them up. It was a fruitless endeavor, but he nonetheless still tried. Lucas tried to keep his mind focused on things other than the monotony and loneliness of being trapped in a concrete box for days on end. He had started out thinking of ways to improve the vocorder – to make it smaller and with a more complex system for syntax. But then he remembered that no one other than marine biologists found it useful at all. He then started going through complex equations in his head; anything to keep his mind sharp. He could feel the numbness that had consumed his body start to work on his brain, and he was afraid that he would just not care anymore.

When he realized that he couldn't concentrate on one topic without getting distracted or sidetracked, he switched to remembering. He smiled to himself when he thought of the first tour he'd spent on _seaQuest_; the excitement of new discoveries intermixed with fear and the sense of acceptance – of belonging. As time wore on, Lucas found himself getting lost in these memories more and more frequently. He accepted this without hesitation. Reliving the fun he'd had getting into trouble with Ben Krieg, in designing and building the Stinger with Katie Hitchcock, and most of all, the time he'd spent with Captain Bridger, was a wonderfully welcome distraction from his current discomfort.

Lucas sat against the wall with his head on his knees, and let himself slip into another memory from happier times. He was thinking about swimming in the moon pool with Darwin, playing their version of football and laughing. His eyes glazed over and his lips turned up at the corners – just the slightest hint of a smile. Right now, that memory was all he was interested in. It was what was keeping him from falling apart. It was the hope he was going to cling to until he could be rescued.

***

In a nearby room, John Harrington watched the young man rock back and forth. It was clear from the observer's perspective that he was starting to detach from the situation. He tapped his fingers against the table in front of him. He had underestimated Wolenczak; something Harrington rarely did. He had expected the young ensign to break down within days of his imprisonment. He hadn't thought that the young man would have withstood the beating he'd received with such determination. The kid had barely made a sound. Now, a week in, Wolenczak's bruises were almost completely faded, with the minor exception of his one eye. While it was no longer swollen closed, it's slightly yellow tinge was a reminder of how painful it must have been just days before.

Finally, after a week of isolation, food and water deprivation and unpleasant living conditions, Lucas was finally starting to show signs of mental and emotional instability. Physically, Lucas was where he'd been expected to be; weak, exhausted, and unlikely to fight back.

Harrington straightened up and picked up the newspaper in front of him. It was almost time for the next stage. Once initiated, he anticipated that things would move much faster. This is exactly what Alexander Bourne had expected of him and why he had agreed to the assignment.


	12. Chapter 11

**Note: Here you are my lovely readers. I finished writing Chapter 19, so as promised, I'm sharing Chapter 11. I'm not sure why, but this is one of my favorites so far.**

**Chapter Eleven**

Jonathan Ford had gone to painstaking measures to ensure that Lucas Wolenczak's funeral was prepared and executed with full military honors. He'd spent a good deal of time debating whether or not Lucas should be buried at sea or on land, and whether or not he should be cremated. He found it both frustrating and humbling that Lucas had left the responsibility of these decisions to him, but Lucas had left no guidelines whatsoever. Jonathan didn't even know what religion Lucas had practiced, if any.

In the end, he'd settled with a casket and land burial in the Navy Memorial Cemetery in New Cape Quest. There were a number of reasons, but ultimately made his decisions based on his gut. If that body was indeed _not_ Lucas, he'd had to have a stranger cremated. They may need to exhume the body later. If it _were_ Lucas, he'd want any and all of Lucas' friends to be able to attend the funeral. Based on Navy protocol, civilian personnel were not authorized to attend services aboard naval ships at sea. As a retired UEO captain, Bridger would receive permission. Dr. Westphalen and Lucas' friends however would not.

Ford was not sure who exactly would be attending, but with the help of the crew closest to Lucas, they'd managed to get the notification out further than the official newspaper obituary could. He had been both surprised and relieved to see a number of their former crew and friends arrive for the service. He hadn't been aware that some of them had been notified, but he was thankful for whoever had forwarded on the notification. In addition to Nathan Bridger and Katherine Hitchcock, Ben Krieg, Joshua Levin, and a handful of the science team from the first and second tour were there. He was most surprised to see the retired Admiral Bill Noyce and his wife in attendance. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the man, but he'd venture a guess that it was before they went missing for ten years. Finally, Ford couldn't be too certain, but he imagined that the three individuals standing close together were Lucas' old friends Nick, Julianna and Biff.

With the memorial service behind them, the larger than expected group stood on the lush green grass overlooking the deceivingly clear water of the Atlantic Ocean. In front of them, the somber casket lay draped in with the UEO Navy flag, the line of _seaQuest_ officers standing at its side. Jonathan glanced at Captain Bridger, sitting in the seat closest to the head of the grave. Without family, Bridger was the next closest "kin" Lucas had. The retired captain sat there in silence, looking much older than just a few months before. His right hand lay clutched in the lap of their former Chief Scientist and Medical Officer, Doctor Kristen Westphalen. She sat tall in her seat. The unshed tears glistening in the bright Florida sunlight.

Jonathan turned his attention back to the casket and the four men now holding the flag waist high above it. Without any family to fill the roles, Tim O'Neill and Tony Piccolo had both volunteered to be pallbearers. Ford had been surprised when Krieg had arrived and asked for permission to be an honorary pallbearer as well. The fourth was another young ensign from engineering. Jonathan had not been aware that the young officer and Lucas had been friends, but he was pleased to find out that Lucas had been making new friends this tour.

At a silent signal, the military personnel stood stiffly to attention and raised their hands in a salute. Three sudden bursts from the firing detail cut the somber silence and the lone bugler began to sound TAPS. Ford and the rest of the military personnel terminated their salutes, indicating to the cleric that it was time for the final benediction. The pallbearers folded the flag with sharp precision. Jonathan knew that this group of men had been practicing this part of the ceremony repeatedly for the past 24 hours. Of the four, only Krieg had ever had the occasion to perform the folding of the flag. Ironically, it was at the funeral of Nathan Bridger's son, Robert.

Commander Ford stood and watched as the flag passed from Tony Piccolo's hands to the current captain of the _seaQuest_. It was only fitting that Captain Hudson would hand the symbol to the former captain, Bridger, and salute. The words of consolation were lost in the wind, but to all who knew Lucas understood what was being said. They all would feel the loss of one of their own. Captain Bridger nodded in acknowledgement and accepted the UEO flag. Kristen, beside him, wiped the tears that had started to fall from her eyes.

Looking over at the officers standing to attention, Ford caught Lt. Henderson's eye. She gave him a small nod and a slight smile. Of all the people in attendance, Lonnie was the one person who knew how difficult this assignment had been for him and how much time he'd spent deliberating all the details. That little nod and smile was enough indication for Jonathan to know that he had done well. That he'd given his youngest officer a fitting farewell – if it had been Lucas at all.

Tim O'Neill stood separate from the rest of the group. They were standing outside in one of the more scenic areas on the grounds of UEO Headquarters. After the funeral, they had moved from the gravesite to this location. The strong Irish Catholic upbringing in him equated the gathering with a wake, and the mood was very subdued. He'd been walking aimlessly around the grassy area for the better part of an hour, trying to work up the courage to approach Captain Bridger.

He found his hands shaking with nervousness and he fumbled with the white envelope in his hands. Each time he'd noticed their former captain alone, someone had immediately walked up to him. As it was, it was difficult to find him without Dr. Westphalen close by. Tim hadn't been aware that they'd kept in touch after that first tour together, but it hadn't surprised him at all. Whether or not they were as close now as they were on _seaQuest_ would have been a thought on his mind had they all been brought together for a completely different reason.

Tim looked up and saw Bridger break away from the group. He started walking towards the edge of the garden, towards the drop off into the ocean. Tim also noticed as Dr. Westphalen started to take a step towards him, but was stopped by Admiral Noyce. With one last deep breath, Tim crossed himself and walked briskly towards the captain. He couldn't let his nerves get the better of him. He'd decided to give Captain Bridger the letter, and this might be his last chance to do it in person and without an audience.

Tim cleared his throat and stepped closer to Bridger. The older man did not turn around. Instead, he just gazed out at the expanse of water in front of them. Tim moved next to Bridger and closed his eyes for just a short moment.

"Sir, I'm really sorry."

"Me too, Tim. Me too."

They were both silent again. Tim held the envelope in his hands, staring down at the wrinkled and slightly stained paper. He'd taken it out so many times, transferred it to several pockets, and generally man-handled it frequently in the past week. While he really didn't want to keep it, Tim was also reluctant to pass it on to its intended owner. He was afraid it would cause the captain more pain. He wanted to tell the older man that there was a small chance that Lucas was alive, but he knew he could not. False hope shattered by the news that Lucas was in fact dead, was worse. The captain was already grieving a lost "son," he didn't need to grieve a second time.

"Captain Bridger, Lucas gave this to me to give to you."

Tim raised the envelope towards the retired captain, and Bridger looked down at it in surprise. He didn't say anything. Just raised his one eyebrow slightly and gently took the letter from O'Neill.

Tim cleared his throat again. "He had a bad feeling about this mission, sir. He wanted to make sure you got this if he…if he didn't come back. I told him he was being ridiculous, but I guess he wasn't." Tim looked away, trying to hide the fact that he was trying to keep from crying.

Tim felt a warm hand on his shoulder and he turned back to face the captain.

"Thank you, Tim." Nathan smiled sadly at the lieutenant. "If you don't mind, I'd like to read this in private."

"Yes sir. I'll just head back to the rest of the group." Implied in this statement was that Tim O'Neill would at least attempt to keep people from going looking for Bridger so that he could read the letter in peace.

As Tim walked towards the building, and the group of people milling about on the patio and just inside the open doors, he looked back and saw Captain Bridger walking away. He imagined that the older man would want to find a private and secluded spot away from the rest of them; away from prying eyes. Turning back to the larger group, he started to walk towards Tony and Lonnie, when he felt an arm slip through his. It was Dr. Westphalen and she gave him a little smile he hadn't seen in a very long time. Until now, he hadn't realized how much he'd missed her.

"Let's go sit down somewhere quiet, Tim."

He nodded in agreement and they walked back outside into the garden and sat on a bench. Dr. Westphalen took her arm from his and instead took his hand.

"How are you doing, Tim?" She looked at him directly in the eyes. She could always see right through him and now was no exception.

He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. Immediately returning them to his face, Tim mumbled a barely audible response. "I'm okay."

"Hmm. I don't think so Lieutenant. I don't think any of you are 'okay' right now." With her free hand, she gently patted his knee. "It wouldn't hurt to just let it out, you know. All of you are just bottling up your emotions. Humph. Navy. There is nothing wrong with showing your emotions every once in a while."

Tim gave a light chuckle. You could always count on the doctor to both mother and reprimand the Navy officers at the same time. Despite her dislike of the military, she had a soft spot for the _seaQuest_ crew and especially for Lucas.

"Really, Dr. Westphalen. I'm okay. I can't say that it's really sunken in yet, but we're dealing with it in our own ways." Uncomfortable with the focus on him, Tim attempted to change the subject. "How's Captain Bridger doing? I haven't really had much of a chance to talk to him."

"You haven't? I thought you were speaking with him a short while ago?"

The lieutenant shook his head lightly. "Not really. I had something for him." He contemplated telling her what it was, but it wasn't his information to share. "It was something Lucas wanted him to have."

"Oh." She gazed out into the distance, in the direction that Nathan Bridger had wandered. "I suppose he's doing as well as expected. He's taking it hard, it's almost like when Bobby died, but this time he doesn't have Carol to mourn with. But, he does have his grandson, so he's focusing on Michael instead."

Tim nodded. He knew that the captain was being kept busy with his young grandson and that the boy would probably be an important distraction right now. "Is he here? Michael?" Tim hadn't seen him at the funeral, but it was unlikely that he'd be allowed to attend.

Dr. Westphalen smiled inwardly. She obviously also had a soft spot for the newest Bridger. "No. Nathan left him with the nanny on the island. You know, he's become very protective of that boy and his safety. Can't blame him now, can we?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Doctor, I don't mean to pry, but have you and the captain been talking since we returned. You know, after we went missing? I know that Lucas has been a little unhappy with the way things turned out, but I didn't know if Captain Bridger had discussed it with you."

Dr. Westphalen gave Tim a look that implied he'd stepped out of his boundaries, but then it softened. "We've been talking regularly. Keeping tabs on each other. He told me that Lucas joined the Navy. I was just as shocked as he was. That boy had so much potential and he just was wasting it on that sub."

This was an argument they'd heard too many times, and Tim could only imagine how difficult it was for Lucas to hear. It was bad enough that Captain Bridger had not approved of his decision, but if Westphalen was vocal about her distain for the idea – and she was never _not_ vocal about her position – then Tim could only imagine how upset it would have made Lucas.

"Dr. Westphalen, I'm not going to defend Lucas' decision to sign up. He had his reasons and I'm sure they made sense to him. Did you tell him how you felt?"

The doctor looked away. She pulled a tissue out of a pocket and lightly dabbed her eyes. "I haven't spoken to Lucas since shortly after you all left on the second tour. I took a research position back in London and in the beginning we emailed and called back and forth a bit. Then, I don't know, things got busy for both of us and we just stopped." Kristen smiled sadly at Tim. "I regret not trying to contact him when I heard you had returned. I regret not contacting any of you." She slipped the tissue back into its hiding place and stood up. "Let's go join the rest of the group, shall we?"

They walked back to the reception the same way they had left – arm in arm. Dr. Westphalen gravitated towards the retired Admiral Noyce and Commander Ford, while Tim moved back to where Tony was sitting with Dagwood and Lonnie. He pulled up a chair at the table and sat down. All three of them had food in front of them, but not one looked liked they'd touched any of it; not even Dagwood.

"Hi Tim," Lonnie never failed to greet him with a smile, regardless of the circumstances.

"Hi guys."

Tony had been pushing food around his plate with a fork and paused to stare at Tim. It was disconcerting, but the Warrant Officer's face soon softened.

"What did you give Bridger?"

"I'm sorry?" Tim hadn't realized that anyone had noticed him pass the envelope to the captain.

"I saw you head out there with him. He hasn't come back yet. I saw you give him something. What was it?"

Tony looked at him accusingly and Tim was slightly confused for a moment. He wasn't sure why Tony was being so antagonistic all of a sudden.

"It was a letter. I gave him a letter, that's all." He glared back at Piccolo. "What is your problem, Tony?"

"You've been really secretive lately, Tim, and I was just wondering what you've been hiding. I know you found something on those recordings. I saw you go to speak with the captain and Ford."

_Oh_. He hadn't realized that anyone knew about the information he'd pulled from the audio recordings, but he should have realized that Piccolo would know something was up. The man had been into his quarters while he was going through the information.

"I'm not hiding anything from you, Tony." _Only a small lie_. "I had to give Captain Hudson and Commander Ford a briefing on the contents of those audio files. That's all."

Tony stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed and focused on Tim's face. For a second, Tim almost expected Tony to lunge at him from the other side of the table. That second did not last long and Piccolo went back to his usual self; albeit a very subdued and grief-stricken version.

"Sorry, man." Tony rubbed the back of his neck, his face giving away how sheepish he felt. "I guess I'm just testy. I'm tired of not knowing what happened out there. No one will give me any details – classified you know – and I just want to know what's goin' on with the investigation. Lucas is dead and someone is responsible. I just want to know that they are going to pay." With that, Piccolo slammed his hand on the table. Someone from the nearest group of people turned to look at them.

"Quiet, Tony." Lonnie reached out and placed her hand on top of his. "We all know how you feel. We are all frustrated. Right now, the only thing we can do is to pay our respects to Lucas here and then report back to the boat when our orders come in. We are soldiers and we are going to do our job. We'll move forward this time, just like we did after we lost Brody. Got it?" She looked from Tony, to Tim and then to Dagwood.

"Yeah."

"Yes."

"Um. Yes"

"Captain Hudson and Captain Bridger will make sure we get to the bottom of this incident. The UEO _will_ find out who is responsible. But right now, we need to wait."

Tim knew that Lonnie was right. They would find out what had happened to Lucas. And if he was right, they would find him and bring him home. O'Neill looked up to see Captain Bridger enter the room. They made brief eye contact and Captain Bridger gave Tim a quick nod. At that moment, Tim knew he'd made the right decision in giving the older man the letter. If it helped him get closure on the situation – on his relationship with Lucas – then it was worth it in the end.


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes from CJ: Okay. This is way early, but I felt like celebrating. I just finished writing the "death letter" and yes, you all will get to read it at some point. Patience. I've done some calculations and I think I can post 3 chapters for every one I write - up to the end. That means you get chapters 12, 13, and 14 during the course of time it takes me to write Chapter 20. Can you say "woo hoo"? As always, reviews provide me with instant gratification, and I like instant gratification. Sorry for the chapter length. I think they are all realively short from here on out. Remember, I own nothing related to seaQuest.**

**Anyway, for all of you asking for more Lucas, this one's for you:**

**Chapter Twelve**

Lucas was going through the periodic table of elements in his head and got to Antimony before he became distracted, his mind wandering to other things, and had to start from the beginning again. He was sitting cross legged on the floor attempting to visualize the symbol for each element and to recall the associated atomic number. He had already gone through a list of advanced physics equations in his head and needed to move onto something new. He found that if he focused on something he knew really well, it helped to keep him mind a little clearer.

Lucas was surprised when the door opened without warning. He wanted to kick himself for not paying attention, but he'd stopped waiting after he'd received his water allocation for the day. He scrambled to stand, holding the wall for support. He tried to move faster, but he didn't know if he could trust his knees to hold his weight and the dizziness that had plagued him lately was worse when he stood up. He hadn't made it more than three feet towards the door before a looming figure strode in through the open door. It was the tattooed man who'd beat the crap out of him when he was first brought here. As the man moved closer, Lucas found himself shrinking back in response.

Instead of being grabbed or punched, a paper was shoved in Lucas' hands.

"Here. Read this. We'll be back to talk to you later." The tattooed man just smiled and turned to leave the room.

Lucas suddenly found himself alone again, standing in the middle of the cold, small room, holding a newspaper clipping. He looked down at the paper, and gasped. He found his legs going weak and shaking, and he grabbed for anything that could help him from falling to the ground. With the support of the wall, he slipped back down onto the floor to read the clipping with his image staring back at him.

After skimming quickly through the text once, he started reading from the beginning, slowly. He frowned and chewed on his lip as he reread the words. It was an obituary. A funeral announcement. For _him_. His heart raced as he realized the gravity of the situation. They thought he was dead. They even had a body. If they didn't, surely they'd just hold a memorial service? There was not much in the obituary that gave any additional information he could use. There was a brief description of his earlier achievements and then the enlistment with the UEO Navy. Whoever had written it, had not given any details on his death; just that he died in the line of duty on July 5th 2032. He scoured the paper for more details and found what he was looking for – a date. July 12th. The funeral was a week from when he was abducted. That was fast, wasn't it? He wasn't exactly sure what date the paper was printed, or even if it was from today, but at least he had some idea of how long he'd been there.

Lucas rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. This could _not_ be happening. No one was looking for him. No one had any _reason_ to look for him. They all thought he was dead. He suddenly had a thought. What if it wasn't? What if it was fabricated to make him think they believed him to be dead? He'd been told that if you were ever taken prisoner, you could not trust anyone. Even someone who appeared to be an ally. What if it was part of their plan to get him to do whatever the hell it was that they wanted him to do? He was still completely in the dark about that part of his imprisonment. They must want or need something from him. If the UEO really believed him to be dead, then there was no way his captors were planning to use him as a bargaining chip or in an exchange. He _must_ have something that they wanted. He just wasn't sure why it was taking them so long to try and get it out of him.

Honestly, now he was just starting to get confused. His head felt completely muddled and he was starting to feel sick. This was not new. It was just another unpleasant side effect of dehydration, but paired with this news, he wasn't sure if he could control the sudden lurches his stomach was threatening to make. He doubled over and clutched his abdomen as the dry heaves took over. He had nothing in his stomach. Not even the water he'd been given earlier in the day. There never was anything to vomit anymore, but it didn't stop his stomach from trying.

Exhausted from the effort, as well as from the news that he was never going to be rescued, Lucas collapsed against the wall – eyes squeezed closed. If no one was going to come for him, he was just going to have to figure out a way to save himself. No matter what.

***

John Harrington stood at attention and listened to the man on the other end of their secure vidlink. He'd worked long and hard to get to the point where he could work for and speak directly to President Bourne. Gaining the trust of this man was practically an impossible endeavor, but the fact that he'd managed to be recommended and hired for this particular assignment, was clear indication that he was well on his way to inserting himself into Bourne's "inner circle." Regardless of his opinion on the current situation, Harrington could not let his comments and demeanor destroy his hard work.

"President Bourne, sir. I agree. This process is taking much longer than I had anticipated. However, I think that it is in our best interest not to rush through the stages. Mr. Wolenczak has proven to be a little harder to break than your average teenager, but he's never been average at anything. We knew that from our research. I assure you that everything is going according to plan, just a few days off on our timeline."

"And what makes you think that he's not going to surprise you again? I need to know that you can do this job. If you can't, I'll give it to someone who can, faster.'

"Sir, Wolenczak is already showing evidence that he's weakening. We have been working on his physical state for the last week. A short while ago, we initiated stage two. I have a program that has proved to be successful at a rate of nearly 96%. No other program can boast those percentages. Sir, I ensure you that once I'm done with him, he'll be yours – voluntarily."

"Very well, Mr. Harrington. I want a status update from you within 48 hours. Out."

John Harrington let out the breath he was holding and flipped a switch on his personal communicator device. "Pieters, we're ready. Bring him into the interrogation room."

It was time for Stage Two of the Program.

***

It didn't take much effort to get Lucas back into the room where he had, at one time, been tied to a chair. Like the last time, a bag was placed over his head, obscuring any chance of seeing where he was being held and where he was being taken. This, more than anything else, was the most unsettling part of the transfer. At least this time, his hands were free. He no longer had the strength to hold himself upright without assistance, and the heavy hands of his captor were providing the support he needed to move forward. There was no chance he'd be able to even attempt to break free. Lucas was pretty sure he'd just fall flat on his face – unable to get up again.

Like the previous time, he was forced down into a hard chair and the hood was removed from his head. Lucas blinked a few times, letting his eyes acclimate to the light and surroundings. He appeared to be in the same room as before, but he couldn't be certain. Who knew how many of these identical rooms this building had? He didn't even know _where_ he was. Unlike his previous "visit," this time he was seated behind a table and his hands were left free. The tattooed man left the room, leaving Lucas alone.

It wasn't long before the second man entered the room. He was the less military one of the three he'd dealt with over the course of his imprisonment. In his hand, the man held a mug. Lucas could see the steam rising out of it, and despite his stubborn determination to ignore it, he could not help but stare. He was still so cold, dressed in nothing but the same shirt and underwear he'd been wearing the entire time he'd been in the cell. All he could think about right then was how wonderful it would be to hold that warm mug in-between his cold hands.

The man pulled a chair out opposite from Lucas and sat down. The mug placed in the open space in front of them.

"Hello, Lucas." The man smiled at Lucas. Similarly to their last meeting, his face showed no indication of any malicious intent. His demeanor was almost the mirror opposite of the tattooed man. It was almost as though the two of them were trying to play the "good cop – bad cop" roles so prevalent in those classic crime movies. Lucas eyed him suspiciously, but did not respond.

"I see you still aren't up to speaking. That's okay. I'm not planning on asking you any questions. I just want you to listen." With that he pushed the mug closer to Lucas. "You look cold. I figured you could do with some hot tea." The man sat back in his seat and waited.

Lucas was a little taken aback. This wasn't what he expected, although he was very thankful. He knew the man was watching his reaction – to see if he'd accept the drink – and there was little doubt by both parties what he would do. Lucas reached out with a trembling hand and took the warm mug, bringing it closer to his body.

"Thank you." His voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was more than he'd said in a week, and he felt the strain. It started a short fit of coughing that left his chest aching and sore. Lucas lifted the mug to his mouth with two shaking hands. He took a small sip, relishing the heat of the liquid as it slid down his throat, and cradled he mug with both hands against his body.

Lucas did not notice the man in front of him give a slight smile. He did, however, see him place a small, portable video device on the table along with a thin file.

"Lucas, my name is John Harrington. I have been hired to speak to you about possible career options within the Macronesian Alliance. It has come to President Bourne's attention that you might be interested in a high level Research and Development position with the most advanced laboratory in the world. This scientific team has advanced technology well beyond what any other confederation within the UEO has ever even dreamed of doing."

Lucas glared at Harrington, the contempt visible in his eyes; in the firm line of his lips. Unable to hold back, he broke his silence. "Interested, my ass. You mean, Bourne decided he wanted me so he orchestrated a charade on that outpost in order to kidnap me and hide me here. I'm being held against my will and he thinks I'll be _interested_ in working for him. Forced is more like it. I know what kind of technology he's been developing over the past decade. I know what his subs are capable. I know that he's destroyed half the earth in his greed. I'd rather die in this hell hole, than work for him."

Harrington did not appear to be surprised at this outburst. Instead he moved the vid screen closer to Lucas. "Lucas, for all intents and purposes, you _are_ dead." He opened the file in front of him, and pulled out a few photographs. He turned each of them to face Lucas, and placed them in a row across the table. "These were taken yesterday. They think you are dead, Lucas. They are not coming for you. They will never come looking for you."

Lucas looked at the images in front of him. They were very obviously taken at a funeral. He could seen the casket and flag and officers dressed in the UEO uniform standing at attention. He reached out to touch first one and then another of the pictures of his friends. They were all there – Lonnie, Tony, Tim, Dagwood. Even Katie and Ben had made it. He lingered on a photograph of three people he didn't recognize at first. Suddenly, he realized that these were the three people he'd been friends with in his youth: Nick, Julianna and Biff. They'd all changed so much – were so much older – but Julianna was as beautiful as he remembered her to be.

Finally, he saw someone he had wanted to see for such a long time. He reached out and pulled the photograph closer so that he could get a better look. It was Captain Bridger. And to his right, was Dr. Westphalen. He hadn't seen her in years, and while he was overwhelmed by the image of her at his funeral, his attention was completely transfixed on Bridger. Their last interaction had not been good, and Lucas really imagined that he'd never hear from the man again. If he really was going to die a prisoner of Macronesia, then he had imagined correctly. This may be the last time he ever saw his former role model; the man who had stood in for his father when he'd been unceremoniously dumped on _seaQuest_ as a teenager.

The man looked old. Much older than he had when they'd been sent to Banaba Islands. In fact, he didn't look that well either. Maybe it was his imagination, but Lucas thought that the man looked devastated. Was it wrong for him to feel slightly relieved? He had assumed that Captain Bridger had sworn him off for good, but if he was really distraught over his death, then perhaps all had not been lost between the two of them. Lucas could feel his eyes burning. He pushed the photograph back towards the others and picked up the tea in its place.

"I thought you might like to take a look at this," Harrington pressed 'play' on the video device, "as well."

As the screen blinked to life, it became evident that this was footage from the funeral. If there was any doubt that the photographs were taken from another UEO officer's service, then this assuaged all suspicion. It was very obvious that someone who was right there with all the other people in attendance took this video. It didn't look like it was filmed with a zoom lens from a distance. So someone was able to get in without being noticed and film all his friends. Not only that, but the footage was then sent from the United States to wherever he was being kept. At this point in time, he was quite certain they were in Macronesia. He just didn't know any more specifics. Regardless, there was a traitor in the UEO. Someone who could watch over all of them, without seeming suspicious.

There was no audio with the video, but Lucas could imagine what was being said. They'd all attended the funeral of Lieutenant Brody, although the security chief had been buried at sea. As casket was lowered into the ground, the screen went black. Lucas looked up to see that Harrington had been staring at him – gauging his reaction, no doubt.

Harrington sat back in his seat. For a moment, they just sat there, staring at each other. Harrington was the first to speak. "Lucas, I know all about you. I know where you grew up, I know where you went to school. I know what classes you took and which ones you enjoyed the most." At this, his eyes betrayed a slight hint of amusement. "I know you were offered several opportunities to pursue a Ph.D. In fact, there were numerous professors clambering over themselves to get you to work in their labs."

"So what? I was a boy genius. I had a lot of offers. I wasn't interested." Lucas wondered what point this man was trying to make.

Harrington opened the file again and pulled out two more pieces of paper. He tossed one direction in front of Lucas and then the other.

"Cynthia Holt. Deceased. November 16, 2027. Cancer. Lawrence Wolenczak. Deceased. April 2029. Accident during submersible experiment."

Lucas said nothing.

"Lucas, I know you have no one. No family waiting for you back home. In fact, you have no home. The _seaQuest_ is the only home you've had for years and even they are never expecting you to return. As far as I see it, you have two options. One, you can refuse to cooperate with us and rot in that cell until you die of dehydration or starvation, or two, you can make the best of the situation and make yourself useful to Bourne. I'll give you some time to decide. Pieters will take you back to your room."

Harrington gathered the photos and papers scattered across the table and slipped them back into the folders from which he'd taken them. He knocked on the door, and it was opened. Lucas was left alone at the table to contemplate what he'd been told.

Not long after Harrington left, the tattooed man, now identified as Pieters, came to escort him back. This time, the brute was less forceful and did nothing more than guide him through the door, before slamming it closed. Lucas heard the lock click into place and he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He felt his way along the wall until he reached the place he felt the most comfortable. As he lowered himself to the ground, he felt something different on the floor. Something soft. A blanket! And clothes! Lucas could just make out the outline of a pair of sweat pants and sweat shirt. He quickly slipped them on and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. He sighed in content and then he shook his head in dismay. If this was all it took for him to be happy these days, then he really was in sorry state. Harrington must be watching him on that camera feed and laughing at him. An easy target. Well, he wasn't going to give in just because they finally gave him a few comfort items. He'd rather die here – alone – than help Bourne destroy what was left of the world.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen **

Two days after the funeral, O'Neill found himself seated at the Communications console on the bridge, having resumed his regular duty hours. The _seaQuest_ had been scheduled to head to open waters less than 24 hours ago, and their orders were only slightly more nebulous than they were used to. The UEO had ordered them to patrol the waters in the Indian Ocean along the border with Macronesia. They were only just within the limits of the neutral zone regulations and the entire boat was on high alert. As soon as they got closer to their target area, the captain would most assuredly place them on orange alert.

Tim suspected that their next assignment was vaguely related to their previous mission and that McGath had something to do with the destination. As it was, they were approximately two hours at full speed from the area where Lucas had disappeared. While Tim had not heard anything more than the information the Secretary General had given them several days ago – no leads – he could only hope that the man was following through and digging deeper into the failed mission and the origin of the orders.

The bridge was quiet except for the usual flurry of activity associated with a new assignment. All stations were occupied and Tim found himself on duty with his usual companions - Lonnie and Tony – as well as Lieutenant Sanders who seemed to have taken over Lucas' duty roster. It was rather disconcerting to see her face at that station instead of Lucas'. At this time, both Commander Ford and Captain Hudson both were on the bridge as well. Tim looked up and made eye contact with the commander, who just gave a brief nod in acknowledgement. The Communications Chief turned back to his station to monitor their surroundings and incoming and outgoing calls. It appeared to all that they were going about "business as usual," but Tim knew that it was anything but the usual.

***

"Kiddo."

Lucas mumbled in his sleep, not wanting to wake up. A hand touched him on the shoulder, and Lucas started to feel himself being drawn out of his dream. He could feel his foggy mind starting to clear, but he wasn't quite able to shake the sleep yet.

"Hey Kiddo, it's time to wake up."

Lucas' mind snapped to attention. He _knew_ that voice; that nickname. There was only one person in the world who had _ever_ called him that. Lucas opened his eyes a crack and tried to pull himself to sitting. He could see the blurry outline of the person sitting next to him and he reached out to touch the man's arm.

"Captain, I knew you'd come for me." As he whispered, he could feel the relief wash over him. They'd found him. Captain Bridger had come to rescue him.

Lucas could feel a strong hand grip his upper arm and help him into a seated position.

"No, Lucas. I'm not your captain."

Lucas pulled back suddenly, his eyes opening wide and his vision clearing. He pulled his arms away from the man's grip when he realized it was not Captain Bridger sitting next to him, helping him up. It was John Harrington – the very man responsible for putting him in this situation in the first place. Lucas put his hands against the man in front of him and pushed him back. He was both appalled and shocked that he could actually mistake this man for Captain Bridger. He must really be losing his mind.

Harrington lifted his hands up, indicating that he wasn't trying to hurt the young man in front of him. Lucas glared at him angrily, although his anger was really directed at himself.

"What do you want?" Lucas spit out, and then immediately went into a short fit of coughing. He could feel his chest tightening and his head pounding. He pulled his knees into his chest and pushed himself as far away as he could from the man in front of him.

"Here. Drink this." Harrington held out a small bottle of water, which Lucas took gladly, despite the current situation. The water helped sooth his dry throat, and in turn helping to reduce the coughing fit considerably.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to startle you. I honestly didn't imagine you'd mistake me for Captain Hudson." Harrington gave a sly smile in the dark. Lucas looked at him suspiciously. It was almost as though Harrington knew that Hudson would have been the last person Lucas would have responded to with such relief.

Lucas cleared his throat and looked away, "Not Hudson. Bridger." It was more information than he had intended giving, but he couldn't help himself. With his head turned, he did not notice the way Harrington furrowed his brow at the response. "Why are you here – in the dark? Why didn't you just turn the lights on like you usually do?"

Harrington chuckled. "I didn't want to give you a rude awakening this morning, but it looks like I succeeded in doing so anyway." He stood quickly and walked over to the door. With a couple taps to the surface, light suddenly flooded the room.

Lucas squeezed his eyes closed in response to stark light, taking a moment to adjust before opening them again. When he did look back at his visitor, he noticed that Harrington was holding a bowl. He was both curious and hopeful, and incredibly suspicious. Over time, he'd learned that nothing in life was free. If this man was going to offer him whatever was in that bowl, there was an almost 100% chance that he'd need to give something in return. The question was, was he at the point where he'd willing give in just to get something to eat? He wasn't quite sure of the answer.

John Harrington must have noticed Lucas eyeing the bowl suspiciously, and held it out close enough that Lucas could smell its contents. Oatmeal. He was pretty sure that's what it was. And by the looks of it, the oatmeal was still warm. Lucas bit his lip and sat on his hands, hoping to keep himself from reaching out and grabbing it from the man in front of him. He needed to keep his head; to find out what he had to do to get it, and then decide if it was worth it.

"You can take it, Lucas." Harrington moved the bowl closer, until it was almost directly under Lucas' nose. "There's only one condition. I need you to listen to me. Okay?"

Lucas stared at the food, numbly aware that he was probably just a step away from completely breaking down and grabbing it. He nodded in acceptance and brought his hands forward to take the oatmeal.

"Just don't eat too fast. Little bits at a time. You haven't eaten in a while and if you go to fast, you'll just get sick."

With a trembling hand, Lucas picked up the spoon with one hand and took a small scoop of the oatmeal. After days of nothing but water, this was one of the best meals he could remember. He took a bite of a second, larger spoonful and immediately found himself bent over and vomiting the tiny amount he'd managed to swallow. As he recovered from the sudden nausea, he found the bottle of water being offered to him – which he accepted gratefully.

"Slower, Lucas," Harrington warned as he watched Lucas attempt it again. "Now, I need you to listen to everything I'm going to tell you today. It's important that you don't make any rash decisions. Just think about it first. Okay? My superiors do not know that I'm here right now. If they knew I was speaking to you against their orders, I'd probably find myself in one of cells next to you."

Lucas looked at him suspiciously. This could very be a tactic used to confuse or develop a false sense of trust. He wasn't that stupid, yet he said nothing.

"Basically, I've come to warn you. My superiors are starting to believe that you are a lost cause; that you'll never come around. I'm supposed to bring you in for another session later today where I'm going to give you the last chance to accept our offer. If you do not agree to at least keep your options open, then you are as good as dead. I will not be coming back and nor will anyone else. They'll order that you be disposed of immediately. If you're lucky, it will be quick. If not, we'll take away your water rations and you'll probably never see the light of day again. You'll probably die of complications due to dehydration before anything else. Do you understand?"

He tried to hide his shock and fear, but his widened hands and complete loss of words gave him away. Lucas nodded. He understood that if he didn't come up with an immediate plan of action, he would die in this hell hole and no one would be the wiser. In order to buy himself some time, he had to at least agree to some aspect of what they wanted from him. If he gave them the bare minimum, he may be able to spare his own life – at least temporarily.

Harrington seemed relieved. "Good. I can help you, Lucas. I don't want to see you in here and I think they're making a mistake in trying to force you into the Macronesian Alliance. However, there's nothing I can do right now. My hands are tied until you give them what they want. If you help them – us – I can help you make the best of it. You need to trust me. Deal?"

"What is it I'm supposed to be doing for them? I don't understand what you want from me."

"Lucas, you are one of the brightest scientists in the world. Before you went missing, you were on track to being one of the best computer scientists who had ever existed. Given the right environment and resources, you have the potential to do great things. President Bourne thinks that your talents would best serve Macronesia's needs. He feels you are being wasted in the UEO Navy."

Lucas snorted. It appeared as though President Bourne had the same mentality regarding his chosen career as Captain Bridger did.

"Something funny?"

"No." Lucas was not going to share any personal information with the man, regardless of the fact that he confessed to being on Lucas' side – a confession that Lucas did not feel was true. He did not trust this man or a word he said. The only reason he was agreeing to anything he said was because he valued his life and the chance to live another day to escape.

"You know, I'm not exactly the best developer anymore. I am years behind in the most cutting edge technology and I haven't hacked into a complex system in so many years that I don't even think I can do it anymore. I highly doubt the UEO has any faith left in my abilities, so why would Bourne think I had anything to offer?"

Harrington smiled at this. "I guess Lucas, that President Bourne has a lot more faith in you than your own confederation. He sees you as potential with the possibility for growth. Honestly, I think he just wants your expertise on board as the government attempts to become more advanced in the fields of energy and life support systems. We already know how qualified you are when it comes to computer security measures. The UEO still uses what you developed when you were 17 years old." He patted Lucas on the knee before taking the now empty bowl and standing up. "Maybe you'll actually enjoy the stimulation of working in science again."

Lucas was slightly put off by that comment. Harrington made it seem as though his role as Science Officer on _seaQuest_ was a joke. In his earlier days on the boat, his usually quick temper would manage a snarky comment before he could think of the repercussions. In this situation, he managed to keep his anger under control and bit his tongue. If any of them thought he could be persuaded to help in bringing the UEO, or any neutral confederations, down, then they were sorely mistaken.

He watched as Harrington exited the room, closing the door behind him. While he did not trust the man further than he could throw him – which was not at all in his current weakened state – he did find him strangely familiar. There was something about him that he could not put his finger on. It was almost as thought they'd met before, but Lucas was almost 100% positive that that was not the case. Regardless of his distrust of the man, he knew that he had to do something about his situation. If the UEO thought he was dead – and had buried a body believed to be his – then there was no hope that someone would come to his rescue. That is, unless he was able to get some sort of notification out to _seaQuest_. If he wanted to do that, he'd have to somehow get his hands on a computer, sonar, radio frequency, or anything else that could be rigged to get a code out of this place.

Lucas pulled his newly acquired blanket around his shoulders and noticed how much better he felt that morning. It was amazing what a little comfort such as the blanket, clothes and food, could do for his spirits. If Harrington had assumed it would make him more willing to help the Macronesian Alliance, then he was wrong. In fact, all it did was make him feel stronger and more resolved to fight for his life as long as possible, but not at the expense of the UEO and self pride.

***

Several hours later, Lucas found himself in the same room he'd been in twice before. Similarly to the last two visits, he'd been blindfolded for the walk. Each time the hood was placed over his head, Lucas thought that there must be something along that path that he was not supposed to see - perhaps some indication as to where he was being kept, or maybe a potential escape route. However, he would not have been surprised if they were just keeping him in the dark, literally, to create additional fear and confusion.

Harrington entered the room shortly after Lucas had been seated and the hood removed. As warned, the man addressed the need for Lucas to start cooperating, with the threat of a slow and tortuous death if he did not. As previously agreed, Lucas responded that he would consider what they had to offer.

"Good. I have some documents for you to look through. There's no rush. Just take a look and then tell me what you think." Harrington placed a large roll of paper on the table and unrolled it in front of Lucas. It looked to be schematics for a sub.

Lucas looked through the blueprints and then up at Harrington in confusion. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you want me to do with these. I'm not an engineer. I'm a computer developer and scientist. This is well beyond my expertise."

Harrington just chuckled at Lucas' expression. "I just want to know what you think about the design. What you see, suggestions for improvement, anything that catches your eye. I know you are not an engineer, Lucas, but you've been aboard the most advanced sub in the UEO fleet for years. You know what works, what doesn't. Not to mention the fact that you and a former Lt. Commander Hitchcock designed and built the first prototype of a fast, single seat sub for the UEO. Pretty remarkable for a 16 year old, wouldn't you think?" Harrington walked towards the door. "I'm going to leave you alone to look over those. The specs are in the file over there." He indicated towards the end of the table. "I'll be back in while to hear what you have to say."

Lucas did not respond. In a way, the man was correct in assuming that Lucas knew more about sub design than a lot of other people. He'd had the good fortune of learning a lot about what works and what doesn't, just by living on one for years. Plus, he'd had great tutors in Captain Bridger and the rest of the crew. Katie, in particular, had taught him a lot that first tour. He imagined that this was a test of some sort – to see how much he knew or how much he was willing to talk. He'd have to take a closer look before he decided how he was going to deal with the "test." Lucas glanced down at the schematics in front of him and noted that they were for another form of subfighter. While it appeared to be quite an advanced design, with a number of highly desired features, there were an even larger number of visible flaws.

He was so engrossed in the minute details in front of him, that he did not hear the door open close to an hour later. He didn't look up when he heard footsteps walking towards him, nor did he move when the person stopped directly in front of him. He only knew something was off when the person who had entered placed his hands on top of the large piece of paper he was analyzing. Those were _definitely_ not John Harrington's hands.

Lucas raised his eyes slowly, and came face to face with none other than Mason Freeman. The man he'd run into on so many occasions, starting his first tour with _seaQuest_, and a man he had not expected to see under these circumstances. In fact, the last time he had seen the man, he was on the run from the UEO after a successful escape from a penal colony.

"Mason Freeman."

"Wolenczak." The man smirked at Lucas, his voice thick with disdain.

The distaste was mutual. "I guess Alexander Bourne pays better than Larry Deon. I always imagined you were someone who would go with the highest bidder." Lucas could not help himself. The man in front of him was one of the lowest forms of life on earth and Lucas despised the man. He'd held a gun to Lucas' head on at least two occasions, and the young ensign believed that he wouldn't hesitate to do it again.

"Just as cocky as ever, Wolenczak. Although in your current position, I would be careful what you said." Freeman motioned to a man behind him – someone he hadn't noticed. The man strode purposefully towards Lucas and pulled him from his seat. Lucas grimaced at the rough treatment and tried, in vain, to pull his arms free. Again, a position he'd been in before with Freeman.

"They send you in here to get me to agree to cooperate? I've already agreed to look at the schematics, but now that I know you're involved, I might just tell them to shove it." Lucas practically spit at the man in front of him. He had no idea that this man had anything to do with his abduction, but now that he did, he was definitely less inclined to help. In fact, he was adamant that he would do _nothing_ to help Freeman – ever.

"Actually, I'm here to do something I've been dying to do since I first met you, Wolenczak." With that Freeman landed a punch in Lucas' abdomen, causing the younger man to double over in pain. He did not have time to recover from the air forced out of his lungs before he felt another fist in the same place. Again and again, Freeman threw blows at Lucas' stomach and face. It was far more fast and forceful then the beating he'd received at Pieters' hand. In his daze, Lucas acknowledged that Freeman probably had a grudge to bear against him for years, although his arrest and incarceration earlier that year had little to do with anything Lucas had done. He felt the trickle of blood from his mouth and the unmistakable metallic taste in his mouth. He spat at Mason Freeman, earning another blow to the head.

Lucas was now too groggy to stand unassisted. He felt the man behind him loosen his grip somewhat before forcing him back into the chair he had been pulled out of such a short while ago. A strong hand took a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back. With half lidded eyes, Lucas could see Freeman approach him with a sick smile on his face.

"Now _this_ is something someone should have done to you years ago, _Wolenczak_."

Lucas was barely conscious, but he did register the pressure on his head and the grip on his hair. He could feel the tufts of hair falling into his face, onto his shoulders, but felt completely disconnected from the action. It was as though he was watching his hair – the hair he'd been growing for years – fall from someone else's head. In the distance, he heard Freeman laugh.

"Bastard," Lucas muttered at the man he'd learned to hate almost more than anyone else, and did not hear the door to the room open. It slammed hard against the opposite wall and Harrington stormed into the room. The look on his face was that of pure, white anger. Lucas watched with disjointed amusement – unable to fully acknowledge the pain and position his body was in – as the second man grabbed Freeman by the front of his shirt.

"What the hell do you think you are doing? Get out!" Harrington practically threw Freeman through the door. He didn't have to say anything to the man holding Lucas in position on the chair. The man simply let go, letting the young prisoner slump down and fall to the ground, and followed his colleague out of the room. Lucas wanted to say something to Harrington, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a strangled grunt. He could barely see straight, let alone speak. His freed hand wandered to his head, feeling the short strands of hair on his head. His brain couldn't quite registered what had just happened, although he knew he didn't like it.

Lucas did not see Harrington gesture to Pieters who was looking equally as agitated as his boss, but he did feel the hands help him to stand. Pieters placed an arm around his back and under his arm in support and led Lucas back to his cell. The last thing he heard from Harrington was an order to Pieters, "Make sure he's okay. Clean him up."

Harrington watched as Pieters led Lucas down the short corridor towards his small cell. He was furious. He wanted to rip Freeman's head from his body and feed it to the sharks. How dare he walk in there and assault this kid. He'd been slowly working on him for over a week and was finally getting to a point where the boy would actually talk. He'd warned Stassi and Bourne that this was a slow process. He'd informed them of each and every step he used in his program. He was livid. He knew he needed a moment to compose himself before approaching Freeman. This man had managed to worm his way into the good graces of Bourne almost immediately upon arriving in Macronesia as a refugee. Harrington supposed this was due to the fact that he'd previously worked on the President's behalf in the attempted assassination of his previous employer – Larry Deon of Deon Industries. The man was a snake who could not be trusted. However, his unannounced and surprise appearance was evidence that President Bourne was getting impatient. If that were the case, then he would be pressured to push Wolenczak further than anticipated in a shorter period of time. This, of course, could backfire on all of them.

With a slightly cooler head, Harrington went to find Freeman. He found him in the primary control post of their remote facility, laughing with his partner. Actually, partner was too generous of a word. Lackey was more like it. Freeman was never known to work with a partner. He was a loner, a contract for hire, who made decisions purely out of selfishness and greed.

"What the hell were you thinking going in there and assaulting Wolenczak like that? That kid was silent for a week before I finally got him to speak. Just this morning, I got him to agree to look through some blueprints." Harrington jabbed his finger at Freeman, who continued to grin back.

"President Bourne sends his regards, _Harrington_. He thinks you're moving too slowly. He sent me in to check on your progress. He thought my presence might help speed things up a little." He chuckled. "I think he might just have been right." The arrogant man crossed his arms across his chest and practically challenged Harrington to contest him.

Harrington ignored Freeman's comments. "I'm pretty sure that Stassi did not send you here to interfere with my work. Observe, maybe, but step in and beat the crap out of Wolenczak? I doubt it. Because of that stunt, you may have completely set me back to square one. You can bet your ass that I'll be contacting them immediately." Harrington took a step closer to Freeman and jabbed him in the chest with his finger. "What's your history with this kid anyway? It's obvious he hates you with a passion. And his hair? That's personal and if there was any trigger for this kid, that'd be it."

"His hair? Oh, that one's personal all right. I've been dying to take a razor to his head for years. Obnoxious little runt should have had his head shaved years ago. I just did everyone a favor, including his crew on _seaQuest_." Freeman laughed. "Oh, and I have orders to inform you that you need to check in with General Stassi immediately. There has been some sort of _incident_ and they think they will need Wolenczak sooner than anticipated. I'll be here to observe and report back to the boss."

"Fine, but until I get a different response from General Stassi, you are going to stay as far away from Wolenczak as possible. Got it? Your history with the kid could be enough to ruin this plan for everyone."

Freeman just grinned – like the cat that ate the canary – and turned to leave the room. "Where can a guy get some decent food around here?"

Harrington ignored him and turned instead to the vidlink. He pulled up a familiar number and hoped that the General had better news than he suspected. It did not take long for Stassi to answer, the man ever as stoic as usual.

"General Stassi. I heard you wished to speak with me as soon as possible."

"Mr. Harrington. I suppose that Mr. Freeman has arrived at your facility. I apologize for the lack of advanced warning. It appears as though President Bourne is getting somewhat impatient for some news from you. Mr. Freeman, I believe, convinced the President that he could discreetly discuss the matter with you."

"Sir, Mr. Freeman has never been discreet about anything. In mere minutes, he may have completely destroyed any gains I've made in earning Wolenczak's trust."

"I understand, but what's done is done." Stassi stepped closer to the monitor and lowered his voice. They were on a highly secure link, but it never stopped any of them from being extra cautious. "There seems to be a problem in one of the research labs at NSA. The team of scientists working there has requested additional assistance in getting the situation under control. The reactor has been shutting down one system at a time, and they are concerned that it might be too compromised to correct. This is the same project that President Bourne has invested years of funding into. He does not want it to fail. This problem has to be corrected. We've managed to bring in several computer experts to manipulate the system, but all of them have failed. The President wants you to bring Wolenczak to the plant. Let him have an opportunity to resolve the issue."

John Harrington stood quietly while the General explained the situation. He did not believe that Wolenczak would even consider assisting the Macronesian Alliance with this problem, even if he was not too badly injured from Freeman's earlier beating. However, he had an idea of how he could get the boy to respond favorably.

"General, can you tell me which of the scientists are involved? They wouldn't be Dr. Errol Franklin and Dr. Helene Vanderland, formerly of the UEO, would they?" His mouth turned up in a small smile. Yes, he definitely knew how to get the kid to agree.

Stassi gave Harrington a knowing nod. "Yes, they are two of the lead scientists in this research project. I will take this as an acceptance?"

"Yes sir. I'll just need the coordinates from you. Depending on the distance from our current location, I should have Wolenczak ready to go within the hour."

"Good. I'll send those coordinates over immediately, along with more detailed instructions. Out."

Harrington rubbed the back of his neck while looking at a now blank screen. He only hoped that Lucas was in good enough shape to function at a high level during this task and that he'd be as easy to manipulate as Harrington hoped.


	15. Chapter 14

**Author's Notes: I just wanted to say how incredibly surprised and relieved I am that so many people actually _wanted _Lucas to get a hair cut. I was terribly afraid that I'd get yelled at and am pleased that I was not alone. Thanks for reading and here's the next installment.**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Lucas sat in his cell with his back against the wall. He'd been surprised when Pieters had insisted on patching him up after his rather unpleasant encounter with Mason Freeman. Of course, any encounter with the man was bound to be less than pleasant. Despite the way he felt, and most likely looked, he had not suffered any major damage. Pieters had taped up a deep cut on his forehead and checked his ribs for any broken bones. While they felt incredibly painful, and were showing signs of turning blue already, none of his ribs had been broken. He had a fat lip and his face was bruised, but at least neither of his eyes had swollen shut.

Lucas was angry, with himself and with Freeman, but most of all with Harrington. He hadn't thought he'd trusted the man, but it appears as though he had. At least he'd trusted him enough to not expect another surprise beating. Hadn't he agreed to what they'd asked? Lucas shook his head in disbelief and then regretted his actions. His head pounded and the movement just made his face throb even more.

Lucas left one arm wrapped around his middle and raised his hand to run it through is hair – what little was left. He knew he shouldn't feel so angry about his hair being cut – that was vanity speaking – but he had liked his hair long. It had been a part of his identity for so long – what separated him from everyone else. Even Hudson, a stickler for the rules, had allowed him to keep it longer than regulation length. The captain seemed to sense it was something he needed and never bothered him about it, even when it did get a bit too unruly at times. Lucas pulled lightly at the uneven tufts and clumps of the hair that was left. He figured it could be worse – Freeman could have shaved his head completely. Any way, it didn't really matter anymore. He'd probably never live to see it grow back. After today, he didn't want anything to do with Harrington or his false attempts to sway him.

Lucas heard the lock on the door click before it opened. He watched as Harrington entered the room and walked towards him. He refused to react. He looked the man directly in the eye and hoped that the look on his face exposed exactly how he felt; angry, betrayed and ready to cause more problems than the older man could handle. If they felt he was stubborn before, they didn't know how obnoxious a teenager could really be.

"I'm sorry Lucas. I had no idea he was here. If I had, I'd never have let him in the room with you."

Lucas just glared back. In his mind, Harrington was guilty by association. It did not matter whether or not Freeman was allowed contact with him or not. Anyone who worked with Mason Freeman was obviously someone Lucas wanted nothing to do with.

Harrington stared at him for a minute. Lucas wasn't sure what the man was thinking. It could be that he was trying to gauge Lucas' temperament at the moment, or it could be because he was checking out his altered appearance. Lucas couldn't see his own face, but he assumed the bruises were starting to show already. The older man suddenly reached for Lucas' arm to help him to standing. It was apparent from Harrington's expression that he believed Lucas to be worse for wear and would need additional assistance in getting up and moving faster. In response, Lucas tried to yank his arm back. The sudden movement was enough to aggravate his injuries, and he gasped in pain.

"Listen, I'll explain en route, but we need to get out of here right now. There's been an accident at a research lab nearby and they need your help in neutralizing the problems." Harrington led Lucas towards the door by his arm, and Lucas was slightly surprised by both the urgency and the lack of a blind fold. This was the first time he'd been let out of his cell without the hood over his head.

Lucas tried to pull his arm free, but was not successful. He found himself being half pulled and half dragged down a long corridor. While he was paying close attention to the direction they were heading as well as any unique features he could identify for later use, he wasn't completely oblivious to Harrington's reason for dragging him out of there at such sudden notice. "What makes you think I'd do anything to help you now?" He was struggling to keep up with the man as they raced towards some unknown destination, and stumbled over his own feet, almost pulling them both to the ground.

John Harrington moved closer to Lucas to help support his weight, and in the process also took advantage of the added control by picking up the pace. "Don't be a fool, kiddo. You know as well as I do that if innocent lives were at stake, you wouldn't put your pride first. You've had some good role models in the past and have decent values. We both know that you'd do what you could to save them. Right now, hundreds of thousands of lives can be spared if you are able to stop what others have failed to do."

Lucas did not respond. He was too busy trying to keep his head from spinning and to keep the threatening nausea at bay.

"I'll explain when we get to the launch. It's not far from here, but we need to move fast." They soon reached a set of large iron doors, and Harrington pushed them open with his shoulder. Still supporting Lucas' weight, he swung the doors open further and moved them both into the open.

Lucas squinted in the bright light. He was almost certain that this was real sunlight, not some synthetic program commonly found in the more modern underwater colonies. He was only slightly surprised. It made sense now: the concrete walls and floors of his cell and the old-fashioned lock on the door. He looked back at where they'd just come from and found it to be an old stone building of some sort. _Maybe a storehouse or some other storage facility?_ It was evident that some modifications had been made to the interior to have it resemble an antiquated prison with only slightly modern features.

A quick pull on his arm brought his attention back to the direction they were heading. It was the water where a launch had surfaced and was waiting for their arrival. Harrington helped Lucas climb through the opening and down into the belly of the vehicle, before climbing in after him.

It wasn't until they were both strapped in, and the launch underwater and on the way before Harrington filled him in on the details. The older man turned to the young UEO officer and dropped his voice low. Lucas assumed it was to prevent the launch pilot from overhearing, but he couldn't be certain. "Do the names Errol Franklin and Helene Vanderland mean anything to you?"

Lucas looked up, confused. Of course they did. Anyone who considered himself to be current on modern scientific theories knew those names. "They were two of the UEO's leading scientists working on biochemical warfare before they were murdered in their own lab, with their own experiment, nine years ago."

John Harrington gave Lucas a half smile. "You are only partially correct. Franklin and Vanderland _were_ UEO scientists, but they were not murdered. Much like your "death," theirs were faked when the Macronesian Alliance abducted them and took them prisoner. They've been working for Macronesia ever since.

Lucas' eyes opened wide in shock. He'd never realized how adept the enemy had been at kidnapping UEO citizens without any trace, for so many years. He wasn't sure if anyone had even suspected that the two scientists were alive. Everyone knew that their deaths were no accident but no one had ever been arrested in connection with the murders. As quickly as his eyes opened in surprise, he narrowed them into slits when he responded. "I guess that's what I have to look forward to then; a lifetime of imprisonment working for the enemy?"

Harrington ignored his comment. "Lucas, you can make this as easy or as hard as you like. The reality of the situation is that Bourne is not going to just let you go, and no one is coming to get you. Are you going to pay attention to my briefing or not?"

Lucas just turned away. He knew that he had no choice and that Harrington would continue regardless. He didn't have anywhere to go and he knew that he'd be forced into the upcoming situation whether he like it or not. Plus, Harrington was right. If there were innocent lives at stake, he'd never be able to say no.

"Good. Listen closely. We are heading to a deep-sea research facility about four hours from here. A team of scientists have reported that their computer system – the entire system controlling their research and experiments – has been corrupted. They believe that someone has introduced a virus, which is currently taking them down, one section at a time. As of the last contact two hours ago, they reported that all systems – save life support and that controlling the release of their latest experimental samples – are now failing. The NSA – the head agency overseeing this lab – has sent in their best computer experts to deal with the virus and none of them has had any success. They are concerned that whatever the scientists have been working on there, will get into the water and possibly kill all marine life in the area. If it manages to survive in the open water, it could possibly move on to contaminate the waters close to the coasts. Peoples' lives are possibly at stake if that happens."

Lucas looked at the man next to him and tried to gauge whether or not he was being truthful. To be quite honest, he just couldn't tell. "What makes you think I believe you this time? That's basically the same ploy you all used to get me in the first place. You claimed that some newly discovered outpost had some system you couldn't crack, and then you organized an emergency situation to grab me undetected. I don't believe you."

Harrington was visibly unconcerned. "Are you willing to take that chance, Lucas?"

The young man just looked away. He was caught in a situation where there was no right response. If what Harrington had just told him were true, then he'd be wrong not to do something about it. If Harrington was trying to trick him again, what did the Macronesian Alliance have to gain? He was already their prisoner.

"Here, drink this." Harrington handed Lucas a bottle of something thick and green, and his immediate reaction was to reject it. "Don't be stupid. It's a protein and vitamin supplement and you need all the strength you can get. Just drink it. _Slowly_."

Lucas accepted it begrudgingly. Even if he wasn't interested in helping the Macronesian government, he still was suffering from lack of nutrients and calories and was barely strong enough to hold himself up on two feet. He needed to eat and drink anything he could just to function properly.

***

Several hours later, they found themselves docking in a launch bay several miles below the surface of the Indian Ocean. Lucas had taken the opportunity of his lack of a blindfold to pay close attention to the monitors and coordinates that the pilot entered into this console the entire journey. He needed as much information on where he was being held in that tiny cell, and where they were headed, as he could gather. If he could get a message out to the _seaQuest_, or any other boat in the UEO, he would need at least some idea of where he was.

Two security types wearing uniforms not unlike the submariners in the Macronesian fleet met them at the launch bay doors. No words were exchanged within the small group. Lucas was briskly and firmly escorted along with Harrington, towards whatever part of the research facility he was needed most. Based on his very brief glimpse of the place, nothing seemed amiss. The lights were flickering and he could hear the constant hum of an emergency generator. Low-emitting light strips along the floor illuminated the corridors, and it appeared that most of the functions of the place were reduce to the bare minimum.

The security detail each had one of Lucas' arms and practically forced him into the seat of a large computer processing unit and monitor. Within seconds, another man entered the room and pulled up a chair next to Lucas. He held out a hand and introduced himself.

"Sorry, there's not much time to get acquainted, Mr. Wolenczak. I've heard a lot about you. Met your father once too. I'm sorry to hear about his death."

Lucas just looked at the man, slightly bewildered. He did not recognize this tall, wiry man with hair that rivaled Albert Einstein's.

"Oops, sorry. Forgive me. I'm Dr. Errol Franklin. Formerly of New Hampshire, the United States." He gave Lucas a goofy, lopsided grin.

Lucas took the doctor's hand and was rewarded with an overly enthusiastic shake. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Franklin. I didn't recognize you. I think the last photo I saw of you was at least 15 years old."

"Alrighty then. Shall we get you started?" The world-renowned scientist started describing their current predicament to Lucas and the young man listened intently. Not only was he trying to determine if this was another trap, but also some clues as to how to tackle the problem if indeed they were all being honest. It didn't take the doctor long to give Lucas an accurate reading of the problem at hand. What he really needed now was access into the mainframe and to see if he could track down whatever was doing the damage. From the sounds of things, there was one pretty destructive virus in the system that was progressively picking up pace.

"Okay. Let me just get into the system to see what's going on. Can you give me a list of the codes and passwords for the areas that I'll need to access? I could dig for them myself, but it'll be faster if you give them to me. Can I have a pen and paper?"

Dr. Franklin pulled one of the pens from his breast pocket and a notepad from one of the deep pockets of his lab coat. He handed them over to Lucas and proceeded to start writing down the information that the computer genius needed, on another sheet of paper.

"Thanks." Lucas placed the pen in his mouth, and dove right in.

It took a while for him to see the traces of the virus running amok in that computer system. But, once he saw the tell-tale signs, it wasn't difficult to see a pattern. In fact, it was a familiar pattern with an even familiar hacker tag. Lucas grinned when he recognized it: Merlin, _that bastard_. Of course it made sense that of all the hackers he'd run into in his youth that Merlin would be the one to cause this problem. The guy was a native of New Zealand – now deep within the territory of Macronesia – and the guy had a history of messing with governments. When they were teenagers, Merlin had boasted that he had inserted viruses into at least 12 separate countries' security systems. It had been a game to him and his goal was to hit every developing country and at least half of the developed countries by the time he turned 30. If memory served him correctly, Merlin should be at least 35 by now and probably had surpasses his goal a long time ago.

Merlin never neglected to add his tag to his hacks and this was no exception. To the uneducated, the tags were virtually invisible. To fellow hackers, they were like signing your name to your work. Merlin in particular took great pride in his work. His tags were the computer code equivalent of placing his name in neon lights with huge arrows pointing at it: completely and utterly impossible to miss. Lucas chuckled out loud, unaware that he was being watched closely. No one dared interrupt him – not like he'd have heard them anyway. He was too engrossed in his work. Merlin's one downfall, something he'd obviously never been able to shake, was that he was a one-trick pony. He'd had the same pattern for each of his viruses since Lucas had known him. Since Lucas knew this pattern well, there would be no difficulties in determining the source and expunging the virus from the system. It would take a while, but Lucas could quickly write some code to seek out what he was looking for, while doing other things. He'd just set an alarm to alert him when he needed to go back to the results.

In the meanwhile, Lucas took advantage of the opportunity to sit in front of an active computer terminal to do some of his own digging. He pulled up the systems that had been most damaged by the virus and started correcting those that he felt were most important: communications and data storage. Lucas very discreetly pulled communications up and inserted his own virus – something much more subtle and discreet than anything Merlin would ever have imagined for his own use. Lucas knew that he needed to get some sort of message out into UEO waters: something that would alert them to his location and to the fact that he was in fact still alive. However, whatever he managed to get through could also possibly be picked up by the Macronesian Alliance as well. He considered his options and made his final decision – he'd attach his own short _message_ to every single communications sent from this research station. If he did it just right, he'd be able to link up with a UEO secure channel with each frequency, and unless they were looking for it, no one from within the station would ever notice. The only thing he had left to decide was what to include in the message. It had to be something that would not immediately cause alarm if it was discovered. Thinking quickly, he wrote the code and included his UEO serial number and the approximate coordinates of his prison based on basic extrapolations from their current location and the travel they'd done on the launch. With any luck, a UEO sub patrolling the neutral zone within several nautical miles of this research station would be able to pick it up. That is, if they had communications capabilities almost as good as those on _seaQuest_.

That done, Lucas focused in digging among the files of the research station. Whether Dr. Franklin had realized it or not, he'd given the computer wiz the codes to access all levels of information within the database, including those protected with the highest level of security clearance. He pulled up file after file, and dug deeper and deeper into the overwhelming amount of information stored there. Lucas, with a strong background in chemistry and biological sciences, found that most of the research done at the facility was relatively benign. There were studies being conducted on oxygen regeneration, water purification and a basic improvement of soil quality and productivity. It was the most highly secured – and encrypted – files that piqued Lucas' interest.

While his virus tracker both found and deleted the mess that Merlin had made with the research center's computers, Lucas found himself becoming fully engrossed in the complicated equations and theories that the scientists, and government, were really working on at that site. When Lucas finally broke the encryption of one particularly well-protected file, he stopped, fingers frozen in place. He took the pen out of his mouth with one hand and wiped his mouth with the other. His eyes were practically watering from staring at the boxes and file icons that popped up on the monitor at lightening speed. He took a moment to blink and let them regain some focus outside of the bright screen. He heard a cough to his right and turned to see both Harrington and Franklin looking at him expectedly.

"So?" Franklin leaned in closer. He was obviously very eager to find out what progress Lucas had made.

"Oh, yeah. I found the virus." Franklin grinned and was just about to open his mouth to speak when Lucas interrupted. "Well, I found its trail. Right now, I'm following it through the mainframe – tracking it so to speak – and correcting the code when I find it. I'm still searching for the primary source of insertion, which could take a while."

"Any idea on how long it will be before we can get most of our systems up and running?"

"Um, I'm working on getting them up one at a time. I've already managed to get communications functioning again, if you want to test it out." Lucas secretly hoped that the scientist would, and therefore he'd be able to see if his own virus, and message, would work without setting off any alarms. Franklin nodded, but did not move to run a test. "It's going to be a while until everything is working smoothly again. You might want to do something else in the meanwhile."

"Oh. Okay." Franklin got out of his seat and moved towards the opposite end of the room. Lucas wasn't sure what he was doing, but didn't care. As long as the doctor didn't notice Lucas digging through those files, the doctor could be doing anything he wanted.

Lucas turned back to the monitor, and then changed his mind. He knew he was not in a position to make requests, but if they were really going to go along with the ruse that he was the only person who could eradicate this virus, then surely they'd acquiesce to some of his demands?

He cleared his throat, aware of how raw it felt from the constant coughing. "Do you think I could get something to drink? Water?" He didn't address anyone in particular, but he knew that in addition to Harrington watching over him, the two armed security men were close at hand. No one responded, but he did see that one of the men walked out of the door. Lucas turned his attention back to the information he was viewing on the screen.

With shaking hands, Lucas started typing on the keyboard again. In addition to the initial chemical formula he'd managed to pull up, he was able to peel away even more layers of security to reveal the full extent of the research being conducted at this facility. Basically, Franklin and Vanderland had been brought to Macronesia for one purpose: to develop one of the most deadly biochemical weapons the world had ever seen. Just a drop of this toxin in the water – both salt and fresh – could kill thousands of people within seconds. What Macronesia planned to do with it, was anyone's guess, but Lucas could only imagine the repercussions its use could have on their "conflict." If this stuff managed to get into the water purification system of, say, California, it could kill everyone downstream of the primary water source.

Lucas had to think fast. There was very little he could do to prevent this formula from being manufactured in large quantities – if they hadn't done so already – but he could insert his own virus to systematically delete key components of the formula within the entire database as well as to contaminate any samples in the research laboratories. From within the files, Lucas was able to make the correct assumptions as to what would render the bio-toxin inert, and manipulated the program, which monitored the samples within the station to make the appropriate adjustments. In order to protect himself, Lucas added a delayed start to the release of the virus and attached a scrubber to the end in order to erase his tracks. While this was only a band-aid solution – there was nothing stopping the scientists from starting over again – he hoped it would buy enough time for someone to alert the UEO as to what was happening. Hopefully, that someone would be him.

He saw that his alerts had been activated and most of Merlin's virus had been exposed and corrected. The last step was for him to make the final corrections at the insertion point before pulling all the affected systems back up. Lucas sat back in his chair, exhausted. He looked down to see that someone had placed a bottle of water next to him on the desk, and he hadn't even noticed before then. He had no idea how much time had passed, and in reality, he didn't care. Any amount of time outside of that cell – his prison – was welcomed. Time in front of a computer was bonus. Lucas felt as though he'd accomplished a lot in that short time. While he wasn't certain, he was pretty sure that this was a test. Perhaps some sort of trial run to see if he could hack it as a computer ace, or to see if he would actually be willing to work with the Macronesian Alliance. Regardless, Lucas was relieved that he was able to use the opportunity to his own advantages, and hopefully no one on this end would be the wiser.

Lucas picked up the water bottle with a visibly shaking hand and drank greedily. His actions did not go unnoticed. Franklin was by his side in a moment and Harrington looked up at him questioningly.

"I got it all. You'll need to reboot and verify that everything is back to functioning as usual. You may notice a few glitches here and there while the computer makes some minor adjustments. I've set it to search and identify any similar code and it'll make corrections as they come up."

Franklin grabbed his hand, pumping it up and down in an even more enthusiastic handshake than before. "Excellent. Excellent. I knew we could expect success from a Wolenczak."

Internally, Lucas cringed at that comment. Even years later, and after the death of his father, his last name made an impression because of the older Wolenczak's work. He felt Harrington's firm hand on his shoulder and he knew his time was up.

"If there isn't anything else, Doctor, I'll get young Mr. Wolenczak out of here." Harrington's hand moved from Lucas' shoulder to his upper arm, and Lucas took this as the hint to stand up before he was physically moved to standing. He noticed Dr. Franklin frown and then open his mouth to speak.

"Everything is fine, Dr. Franklin. I'm sure that whatever computer technician you have on staff will be able to monitor any other glitches without a problem." Lucas reassured the older man. He needed the scientist to be comfortable with the status so he wouldn't freak out when his own virus started feeding its way through the network. He wanted it to have as much headway as possible before anyone was alerted to its presence.

Lucas was led back to the launch the same way he'd arrived – with Harrington providing an undeniable physical support and the security detail in tow. This time, the lighting was back up and functioning and the usual power source feeding the station had taken over from the generator. The first hour of their trip back to their facility, and Lucas' holding cell, were uneventful and spent in silence. Lucas forced himself to stay awake. He was beyond exhausted and generally felt worse than he had in days. His whole body ached, his head hurt, and he felt as though he had sand in his eyes. He wasn't certain, but he'd wager a sum that he now had a fever. With the adrenaline pumping from the computer hacking, he hadn't noticed the down turn in his physical state. Now, his body was starting to crash, but he needed to talk to Harrington. Once Lucas was sure that the pilot was engaged in his duties, he turned to Harrington.

"So, did I pass?"

"Excuse me?"

"Did I pass the test?"

Harrington looked back at Lucas, amused. "What makes you think this was a test?"

Lucas' expression spoke for itself. "You aren't fooling me. We both know that this was another set up."

The older man smiled at Lucas and patted him lightly on the shoulder. "You did well, kiddo."

Lucas shoved Harrington's hand away from him, the anger he felt clear to anyone who looked at his face. "Don't. Call. Me. Kiddo," he forced out through clenched teeth.

"Sorry, ki -- kid. Force of habit." He apologized. "Want to tell me what's bothering you? I mean, more than being taken prisoner and held against your will."

Lucas was still incredibly angry; not just at his current situation and how he was being manipulated, but also at Harrington in general and the fact that the man seemed oblivious to what Bourne was really doing. He either was too stupid to notice, or he was so cold-hearted that he didn't care. Lucas wasn't sure which was worse.

"Other than the fact I feel like crap?" he spat out. "Do you realize what they are creating in that research facility? The number of people they are capable of killing in a matter of seconds?" He wrapped his arms around upper body, and paused for a moment. "Well, I do. That biochemical toxin they are manufacturing, there is only one use for it. They are going to take out hundreds of thousands of lives, maybe millions, and I will _not_ help them do that. If you had any sense of humanity, you'd do whatever it took to stop them."

"Lucas, I _know_."

"I won't let them kill people in the US, the UEO. I won't let them kill my friends."

Harrington grabbed Lucas' arm to get his attention.

"Stop. I _know_, Lucas." He dropped his voice really low so that the sound of the engine would drown it out and the pilot would not overhear. "Do you remember me telling you that you need to trust me?"

Lucas looked at him suspiciously, but nodded.

"Listen, I'm on your side." Lucas was just about to interrupt when Harrington continued. "No, Lucas _listen_ to me. I'm on your side. Get it?"

Lucas wasn't exactly sure what this man was trying to tell him. Was he saying that he was sympathetic to Lucas' position or that he was sympathetic to the UEO?

"What are you talking about, Harrington?"

"I know what they are doing here. I know why they want you. I also know that there is so much more going on that you can't even begin to imagine. Right now, I need you to just trust me, listen to me; take my lead. My goal right now is to keep you safe, and to do my job. Got it?"

"Are you saying that you don't work for Bourne?" Lucas narrowed his eyes, trying to determine if he could believe anything this man in front of him was saying.

Harrington gave the pilot a quick glance. Seemingly content that the man was not paying them any attention, he moved closer to Lucas and whispered in his ear. "What I'm saying is that right now, for all intents and purposes, I'm one of the best contractors Macronesia has to offer. My job is to _follow_ _orders_ and do the best damn job I can so that they hire me over and over again."

It wasn't much of a response and didn't shed much light on the lack of clarity in the situation. Lucas still wasn't quite sure what this man was implying. Based on his tone and body language, Lucas could only assume that Harrington was working for the UEO, or another confederation outside of Macronesia. However, he knew that the man – played to gain his trust so that he'd be easier to manipulate, could easily fool him. Lucas decided not to mention what he'd done to the computers at the research station – just in case he was reading Harrington incorrectly.

"Sit still and be quiet, Lucas. They are listening to everything we do here. You aren't the only one being tested."

He didn't respond. Rather, he took Harrington's advice and kept his mouth shut. Hopefully, regardless of what side the older man was actually on, someone on the other side of this confederation's waters would hear his tag and look into it deeper.


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes:** Again, thanks for all the comments and reviews. I have just 1.5 chapters left to go. Your comments on this chapter will be fuel for me to keep writing (hint, hint).

**Chapter Fifteen**

A few days later, Harrington found himself in one of the conference rooms in the ornately decorated Presidential Palace. Bourne had spared no expenses in designing his accommodations and the business side of the residence was no different.

He stood uncomfortably in a room containing one of the largest tables he had ever seen. If he hadn't known any better the room almost seemed fit for a large dinner party, rather than one for conferences and State meetings. John Harrington ran his hand across the smooth finish. He'd bet his life savings that this table was made from Peruvian mahogany – a species that had gone extinct a long time ago. In fact, this table probably cost the Macronesian government almost as much as their annual security budget.

The double French doors opened and both General Stassi and President Bourne entered the room. Harrington quickly moved to pull his arms back into his body and stand at attention. President Bourne was someone who demanded respect, even from those who weren't military.

"Mr. Harrington. So glad you could make it here in person on such short notice." President Bourne smiled – much like a cat before he was to devour a mouse – and indicated to the table. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you, Sir." Harrington did as he was told. In this situation, it was best to follow orders and keep quiet. Bourne had summoned him here for a reason and he would benefit from listening rather than trying to speak.

Bourne took the seat at the head of the table, while the general remained standing.

"I'm sorry that we had to pull you away from your work so soon. I hear that you are doing exceptionally well with Mr. Wolenczak. Mr. Freeman informs me that he is a stubborn one, but you've managed to gain his trust. Highly commendable, Mr. Harrington."

He nodded slightly to acknowledge the president's compliment.

"I am also aware that Mr. Wolenczak did a remarkable job at the NSA research facility. Dr. Franklin reported nothing but praise for the boy's work. Since he seems to be responding so well, we have another project for him, something much more long-term. A challenge if you will."

President Bourne turned to General Stassi. "General, if you please."

Harrington found the general handing him a thick file.

"Inside there you will find the details for a new weapons system that some of the best scientists and engineers have been working on for years. It has been under development and testing from under-sea facilities for over a year now, and we are ready for the next phase. We would like young Mr. Wolenczak to help re-design the system for installation on our Lysander class subs. To date, no one has been able to come up with a reconfiguration that would work on a submarine. They've been hampered with the logistics associated with a limited power supply and size. We think that Mr. Wolenczak, with his expertise and experience on a submarine, would be a great asset to this team. Don't you agree?"

Bourne paused, and Harrington knew he was waiting for a response this time.

"Mr. President. I'm sure that Lucas will make a fine addition to the team. However, I'm not certain that he is ready. He did agree to assist with the NSA crisis, but he only did so in order to avert any threat of a fatal accident. His cooperation is still based on being strong-armed, if you will, rather than being voluntary. I believe that Wolenczak will more likely than not, completely refuse to work on this project. If you give me a few more weeks, I think I can get him on board, with no further complications."

From the minute changes in Bourne's facial expression – the pressing of his lips together, the forced smile – Harrington could tell that he'd just given an unacceptable answer. Unfortunately for all of them, it was the truth. Whether President Bourne accepted it or not was a different matter. Harrington waited.

"Well. I was hoping you would have a more favorable response, Mr. Harrington. As you do not, I can only request that you take that file with you. Become intimately knowledgeable of what it contains and start grooming our young _guest_. I will give you one week, Mr. Harrington, to work with Wolenczak. I would like a progress report at that time."

"Yes Sir."

"Oh, and Mr. Harrington?"

Harrington looked at the President expectantly.

"Mr. Freeman will remain with you. He will monitor the situation closely and report back to me whether he thinks that Wolenczak is ready to join our team."

Harrington frowned. "Sir, with all due respect, I don't think that's the best idea. Freeman and Lucas have a history, and the boy does not look favorably on him at all. If anything, contact between the two could have a negative effect on this whole process. It could back-fire, Sir."

"Noted. I will inform Mr. Freeman that he can remain at the facility with you and Wolenczak, but he's to have no contact with the boy. He will remain strictly behind the scenes."

With that, President Bourne stood up to leave. "Please direct any questions or concerns to General Stassi, as usual." As Bourne turned to leave, he indicated for Stassi to follow. The two men left Harrington along with the file at the large table.

John Harrington opened the file and started reading over the material. As he delved deeper and deeper into the plans and details, he realized that he needed to get Lucas out of there, and fast. What Macronesia had created would destroy the rest of the world, if they ever got it mobile enough to move through the oceans. If Lucas could manage to retrofit this weapons system onto Lysander class subs, they would have the power and the stealth to take out the _seaQuest_, before the crew knew what hit them. This was bad news for the UEO, and Harrington had to get the details of the file out of Macronesia and into his superiors' hands'.

Harrington reflected on what this would mean for the years of work and dedication he'd put into this assignment. John Harrington had been created specifically for this task over eighteen years ago. His entire identity and background had been created from scratch as he was introduced into Macronesia and the shady underground business associated with a country attempting to take over the world. Early on in his career with the UEO's Covert Operations Agency (COA), a precursor to Section Seven, he'd made the decision to forgo his own life to focus on bringing down the enemy. At that point in time, the COA was beginning to realize the threat of Alexander Bourne and the possibilities of a man rising to power so quickly. The COA made the quick decision to send a number of special ops agents into the country before anything could jeopardize their chances later. As one of COA's top undercover agents, and a man with little to lose, he had volunteered for the assignment. He had divorced himself of his previous identity and been re-born as John Harrington.

Harrington had worked his way up from the lowest level possible, gaining the trust and respect of many a shady character within the fast-growing confederation of Macronesia. He'd easily been noticed by the military and the secret service equivalent within the government, and had started doing smaller, less important jobs for them, with each assignment, gaining more trust and getting closer to the President's office.

This job, the one involving Lucas, was the one he'd been hoping for, for many years. If it went well, it would mean more access to Macronesia's intelligence and perhaps allowing the UEO to get one step ahead of Bourne for the first time. When he'd first heard of the assignment, and the target, he'd done some research on Lucas. After finding out the kid's background, the fact that he had no family, and was in his late twenties, Harrington made the executive decision that he was worth _sacrificing_ for the better good. He knew that it was never preferred that a UEO citizen be taken prisoner by Macronesia, but he was looking out for the better good – for the rest of the world. With the exception of the UEO and his crewmates aboard _seaQuest_, there were very few people who would miss the young ensign. Harrington knew how intelligent he was and what he'd been capable of as a teen, but there were plenty of other equally intelligent scientists that Bourne could have chosen in his stead.

Harrington, with the power to make these decisions on behalf of the UEO, decided that it was better for him to use Lucas to gain access into the higher levels of the Macronesian government, than to let the job go to someone else. He just hadn't expected Lucas to be this young, nor had he expected to find himself feeling sorry for the kid. Regardless of his reaction to the young prisoner, the assignment had to go on as planned. It wasn't until he saw the files that Lucas had pulled up at the NSA station – yes, he had been paying attention – that he saw what Bourne was capable of. Add to that, this new weapons capability. Harrington knew it was time to pull the plug on his deep undercover work and to get both Lucas and the intelligence back into UEO hands. His first plan of action, after leaving the Presidential Palace, was to get word out to his handler – his link to the outside world – that he was aborting his mission and was coming home.

***

Tim was sitting at his usual seat on the bridge when he received an internal alert from the Moon Deck. He flipped the appropriate switch on his console and addressed the call.

"This is the bridge."

"Hey, Tim. I was hopin' it would be you on duty. Listen I just got back swimmin' with Darwin and he's acting all weird."

"Can this wait, Tony? I'm not off duty for another two hours." It wasn't as though Tim had much to do at the moment other than monitor any communications to and from the _seaQuest_ as well as anything that sounded suspicious. The frequencies he had been scanning had been pretty quiet for a while, except for a small blip, which was too quick for him to track or focus on. Tim had managed to set an alert for the sound again, in case it turned out to be of some significance. Regardless of his lack of pressing actions, he did not have the luxury of goofing off in the least. He was already on thin ice with Captain Hudson, and preferred not to get into any trouble. Then he thought about Darwin. "He's not sick again, is he Tony?"

"Nah. At least, I don't think so. He's just being goin' on and on about "hearing Lucas" for a while now and he won't give it a rest. He's even following me around the boat."

"I'm sorry, _what_?" Tim put his hand to his headphones and dropped his voice so that the rest of the bridge crew would not overhear.

"Darwin says he's hearin' Lucas. I was hopin' that would mean something to you. Does it?"

"Um, no. Is he saying anything else?"

"Nope. Just the usual. When we got back from the swim, he was saying how Lucas' light not dark and that he hears Lucas." Tony paused and Tim could hear the sounds of Darwin's clicks in the background. "Damn it Darwin! I think he's gettin' mad at me. He just soaked me. I think he's on his way to the bridge right now."

"Okay, Tony. I'll see what I can find out."

Tim looked around to see that the rest of the crew on bridge duty was preoccupied with his or her own tasks. He turned his attention to the pool where he expected to see Darwin's head at any moment. It wasn't long before the cetacean made an appearance. The vocorder had not yet been turned on and Tim got out of his seat to grab it from the wall behind the tank.

Fortunately, Hudson was not currently on the bridge, but that didn't mean the man could not make a sudden and unexpected appearance. Commander Ford must have noticed Tim move towards the dolphin and gave him a questioning look. Since Bridger's departure from the _seaQuest_, Darwin had been less inclined to spend time on the bridge. He definitely sensed the new captain's dislike of having the dolphin on board and preferred to spend his time swimming through the aquatubes and swimming with whichever crew had the time. For Darwin to come up to the bridge and for Tim to respond by getting the vocorder, was enough to generate a few questions from the Executive Officer.

"Lt. O'Neill, is there something I should know about here?" Commander Ford's tone was firm but understanding.

"No, Sir. At least I don't think so." Tim reached out to touch the rubbery skin of the dolphin's beak. "I just got a call from Tony. He thinks that Darwin's behaving oddly."

"Odd how?"

"He keeps saying that he is hearing Lucas and that Lucas' light is not dark. I haven't heard it myself. Maybe Tony is misinterpreting him, or maybe there is something wrong with this thing." O'Neill held up the vocorder now in his hands.

_Darwin hear Lucas. In water. Darwin swim. Find Lucas._

Both Ford and Tim looked at the dolphin, confused. There was no way that Darwin could hear their missing crewmember. Of the people on the bridge, only Lonnie was now paying attention to the dolphin and their reactions. She left her station to join them at the tank.

"What did he say about Lucas?"

O'Neill pushed his glasses further up on his nose. He knew that Lonnie was not privy to some of the information he had regarding the possibility of Lucas' survival, but even he was having a hard time believing that Darwin knew something they did not.

Commander Ford responded. "He says he hears Lucas in the water and wants us to let him out."

"Why would he think he can hear Lucas?"

"I don't know." Tim held the vocorder to his mouth and hoped that he could get a few more answers from the cetacean. "Darwin, _how_ do you hear Lucas?"

_Darwin hear numbers. Lucas numbers. .4.9.2. Lucas ask for help. More numbers._

Tim recognized what he believed to be Lucas' UEO serial number, but that did not mean that the dolphin was correct in assuming they were from their missing friend. In all reality, he could be hearing any number of things from within the neutral zone where they were patrolling, or from either side into Macronesia or UEO territory.

Ford continued questioning the dolphin, even though he too did not believe that dolphin was picking anything up from the water other than the usual static. "Darwin, can you tell me the other numbers?"

Tim missed the response, as he had to move back to his console. A red light was indicating another incoming call. He immediately alerted the Commander of the person on the other line.

"Commander Ford, I have Secretary General McGath on the line. He would like to speak with both you and the captain."

"Send it to the Ward Room please, Lieutenant. And alert the captain." As Ford strode out of the room, he indicated to Lt. Henderson to take the bridge.

"Aye." With another flick of a switch, Tim initiated the internal alert system. "Bridge to Captain Hudson. Please report to the Ward Room for a message from UEO Headquarters." He waited for the response from Captain Hudson and routed the call through. Tim sat back in his seat and swiveled to look back at Darwin who was still swimming in the bridge tank. He wasn't exactly sure what was going through the mammal's head, but he'd learned from past experience that Darwin was often aware of things that they were only beginning to understand. He shook his head and turned back to his console.

***

Hudson and Ford stood at the table in the Ward Room, listening to what the Secretary General had to say. They had just been alerted that they had new orders and were waiting for McGath to give them more details.

"What I'm about to tell you is classified at the highest level. I'm going to tell you about an agency within the UEO that technically does not exist. This information cannot leave this room. If you bring it up to any official within the UEO, they will deny its existence. If you thought that Section Seven was secretive and shady, the Covert Operations Agency will make you rethink that opinion. The COA was established by the United States to assume many of the roles the CIA used to play – before they were compromised. After the UEO took a leading role in controlling disputes within the world's oceans, the COA was discreetly moved under our leadership. The primary role of this agency is to infiltrate governments, confederations, corporations; you name it that appeared to pose some threat to the world and the global economy. This agency achieves this by inserting agents into undercover roles within each of these situations. This is no short-term assignment. These men and women give up their identities to take on the persona of the person they need to be to gain intelligence or high-ranking positions within those governments. Their primary mission is to do what it takes, for as long as it takes, go get what we need to bring down any corrupt individual, group, or potential threat to the UEO. They do not leave their mission unless they feel as though their identity has been compromised – and many are killed before they are extracted – or they feel that they could provide more by returning to the UEO than they could in maintaining their position."

McGath paused, the magnitude of this information was clearly written on his face.

"We have just been informed by the COA that an agent, placed deep within Macronesia, has sent an emergency request for an extraction. Based in the intel we received, this extraction needs to take place as soon as possible. _SeaQuest_ is currently the closest boat we have to the rendezvous point and by far the best equipped to deal with the assignment. We are ordering you to set course immediately for this location," he pulled up a map with the site well marked, "in the Indian Ocean. Based on your current coordinates, it shouldn't take more than a couple of hours to get there. You are to wait for further instruction once we know where and how the agent will get to those coordinates. Any questions?"

Captain Hudson pushed his chair back from the table and pulled himself to standing. He was most comfortable thinking on his feet, and McGath had given them both a lot to think about. "Secretary General, we are going to be sitting ducks hovering outside of the Macronesian border like that. They will most definitely be on high alert the moment we stop our engines that close within the neutral zone."

"I am fully aware of that, Captain. Once more detailed information comes from the agent inside Macronesia we will be able to send a secondary set of coordinates for the pick-up point. We suggest you have your fightersubs on high alert in case the extraction is compromised."

Commander Ford had been looking closely at the location they were currently being ordered to head for. The coordinates looked strangely familiar. Before Captain Hudson had a chance to respond to the Secretary General, the commander spoke up. "Sir, this is going to come across as, well a bit hokey, but I think that I got these same coordinates from Darwin."

Captain Hudson turned to face his Ex-O. "Excuse me, Commander?"

"I apologize, Sir. Darwin was acting peculiar earlier and ended up on the bridge. He mentioned that he was "hearing" Lucas in the water. We weren't sure if we were misinterpreting him, but he said that he heard Lucas' serial number and a few other numbers. Those numbers correspond to the location we are headed, almost perfectly."

Secretary General McGath cleared his throat and both Hudson and Ford turned back to the video screen. "There is something else."

He had the undivided attention of the two men in the Ward Room.

"The extraction request is for two bodies; the COA agent and another, yet to be identified, who has been tagged as a 'person of interest.' Based on some inside information that I recently received, there is reason to believe it might be Lucas Wolenczak."

The room was filled with stunned silence. Captain Hudson had stopped pacing and instead stood completely still, his eyes narrowed, staring at the image of McGath on the screen.

"What sort of information do you have that this might be our ensign?" Hudson was understandably skeptical.

"The COA has informed me that their agent managed to access Lucas' personnel files, as well as initiate a more thorough investigation into his background and professional interests – both before and after the explosion."

Commander Ford stood to join Captain Hudson. He was angry. "Sir, with all due respect, when were you planning on telling us this? If this agent were never to request an extraction, were you planning on telling us at all?"

"Commander, I understand your anger, but the UEO Security Council felt it best that we remain quiet until we had reason to share the information. It was in the best interest of the UEO that the agent in question be free to make the decisions necessary to gain greater access into Bourne's government, even if that meant that it took us longer to find and retrieve Wolenczak. You know as well as I that each soldier is a small piece of the picture. As a UEO soldier, you have the responsibility to your country, to your confederation. Wolenczak knew the risks when he signed on and he would understand that our decisions were made to possibly save millions of lives in the future."

Commander Ford found himself clenching and unclenching his fists. As an excellent soldier and officer, who had gained the trust and admiration of most of his crew and superior officers, he understood that one must often make a sacrifice at the expense of another. However, part of their creed was to never leave a soldier behind. In his eyes, that's just what they had done. The UEO had helped cover up the fact that one of their own was taken prisoner by an enemy confederation, and had denied them the opportunity to at least attempt his rescue.

Captain Hudson sensed the agitation in his First Officer, and could not blame him. He was feeling equally as outraged. During their earlier conversations, when McGath had agreed to help them determine whether the body they had buried had in fact been Wolenczak, he had trusted the Secretary General. He had believed the man when he'd been informed that they had no leads. Regardless, they now had the information they needed to in fact see for themselves if one of the two individuals scheduled for extraction was indeed their missing ensign.

"Sir, I think I speak for myself and Commander Ford when I say that we do not approve of the decision to keep _seaQuest_ in the dark in regards to Wolenczak's situation. However, now is not the time to get into an argument over UEO politics. If there isn't anything else, we will proceed to those coordinates. Oh, and Secretary General, I'd appreciate you informing us of any other pertinent information that may affect the outcome of this assignment."

"Captain, you will be receiving further instructions as soon as we obtain further communications from the COA. Out."

The video screen went blank and both Captain Hudson and Commander Ford took a deep breath. The information they had just received weighed heavily on them and they took a moment to contemplate the possibilities. The Captain turned to Ford, his face grim and taut then nodded towards the door. It was time to get this boat moving in the right direction – headed to hopefully the retrieval of their missing crewmember.

***

Harrington slipped into Lucas' cell stealthily. He was almost certain that no one was currently watching the video feed from this room, but he could not be certain. He had managed to scramble the audio, so that anyone who did walk into the primary monitoring station would only see dark outlines of the room's occupants, rather than see or hear them clearly. When he reached the boy, sleeping restlessly in the corner, he stopped. It was obvious that Lucas was not doing well. He'd noticed the cough developing, but now it had progressed into something a bit more concerning. Lucas did not even open his eyes with each wracking cough, but visibly changed his position trying to get more comfortable. Harrington also noticed the thin sheen of sweat lining the boy's forehead. He reached over, and placed the back of his hand against Lucas' skin and was not surprised to find him unnaturally hot. Lucas did not even flinch at the touch. Harrington realized that he needed to hurry. He placed one hand over the boy's mouth and the other on his shoulder, giving it a firm shake.

"Come on, kid. Wake up."

Lucas' eyes shot open, the fear written plainly in his face. The cause most probably from having his mouth covered firmly, rather than finding Harrington crouching next to him.

"Shh. I need you to be quiet. Don't say anything, just listen."

Lucas nodded, and Harrington removed his hand from his mouth.

"In one hour, I'm going to return to this cell to inform you of a new assignment. You are going to be your usual combative self, but you will eventually concede to come with me. We are most probably going to be joined by Mason Freeman. The man is like a parasite and Bourne has assigned him to make sure that I am doing my job correctly and that you are complying with my requests. We will get in a launch waiting for us and will head out to the approved coordinates."

Harrington looked Lucas directly in the eyes. The next few pieces of information were the most important.

"We are not heading to the assignment. I have requested an extraction from a pre-arranged location. The UEO will have a sub within range to pick us up once we get out of Macronesian waters and into the neutral zone. However, before we do that, we need to take care of the launch pilot and Freeman. I am going to need you to follow my cues. Do exactly what I say. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Lucas nodded before hunching over in another coughing fit.

Harrington was not sure if Lucas understood the unspoken details and if he'd already deduced that he in fact was not working directly for the Macronesian government, but he didn't have the time to explain, nor was he certain that they weren't being observed through the camera feed.

"Are you strong enough to do this, kid? I need to know that you can hold your own. I have already stashed a couple of weapons on board, and I'm sure that Freeman will have one of his own. How's your combat training?"

Lucas wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. "I'll be fine. Just tell me what you need me to do."

"Good. Just watch me closely. When I give a signal I'll need you to react fast. If I tell you to get down, you do it immediately. I'll take out the pilot first then tackle Freeman. I'm hoping that we can get both of them out there alive, but our first priority is to get ourselves out of Macronesia and onto that boat."

Harrington patted Lucas on the shoulder and stood up to leave. He then had second thoughts and bent back down so that the boy could hear him better. "Word is that they are sending _seaQuest_ to get us." He smiled when he saw that the kid looked relieved.

"If anyone can get us out, they can." Lucas responded.

Harrington paused before he stepped out of the room. "One hour, Lucas. Be ready."


	17. Chapter 16

**Author's Notes: Thank you so much to everyone still reading the story and commenting on the individual chapters. I do want to apologize to everyone for the delay in getting this posted. I live in the mid-Atlantic states and as most of you know, we got dumped on by multiple snow storms in one week. Apparently, we've had more snow this season than the past five winters combined. Basically, I've been trapped in the house for over a week and got no writing done. Plenty of knitting, but no writing. So, regardless of the fact that I have not written a word in over a week, I'm still going to post this one for your reading pleasure. **

**Chapter Sixteen**

Tim O'Neill's attention was completely focused on a seemingly benign and unencrypted personal message coming from a nearby Macronesian site. Technically, he was not supposed to be listening to, or reading, "enemy" messages that were not threatening in nature, but this one had piqued his interest almost immediately. It had come through his scan as being "red flagged," setting off an alarm in his system and with him personally. After analyzing the message, he'd figured out exactly what had initiated the alert – there was a practically invisible "tag" on the message. This tag, unlike the actual message _was_ encrypted with a top-secret UEO code. If he hadn't been watching this frequency so closely, he never would have noticed.

Tim quickly decoded the message and listened through his headset. While it was not an audio or video message, it did contain computer-generated text that scrolled across his screen. As he read the words and numbers, he practically froze in place, fingers suspended above his keyboard. Darwin was right! The mammal had obviously intercepted, and understood, this message before anyone else. There, repeating continuously across his screen as the personal message played was: Lucas. _8739492. SOS. -24.2,101.6. _Almost exactly what Darwin had relayed to them a short while ago. Tim knew he needed to at least share this information with the captain, but he was not going to interrupt an important call with the Secretary General of the UEO. This small piece of information could wait until they returned to the bridge.

He did not have to wait long. The two officers strode onto the bridge and immediately, the captain started barking orders.

"Lt. Henderson, plot a course to -24.32, 101.63."

O'Neil looked up in surprise as the coordinates were relayed.

"Plotting course, Sir."

"All ahead, full. Mr. O'Neill, initiate orange alert." Captain Hudson leaned over his own chair, examining the console in front of it.

"Aye, Sir."

As the alert went into effect, the clam doors of the bridge started to close and the room took on an eerie orange glow. They could all hear the computerized voice alerting all crew of the change in status and reminded them of the steps they needed to take. All crew on the bridge assumed their assigned position and no one dared talk out of turn. The atmosphere had taken a sudden change and that could not be doubted by anyone on board.

The captain continued, "ETA?"

A voice piped up from the side of the main terminals, "One hour, forty-two minutes, Sir."

Hudson nodded with approval.

"All right, listen up. We have just been ordered to pick up two passengers for safe transport back into UEO territory. We are going to be heading to a position dangerously close to the Macronesian border. We don't know if the Macronesian Navy will be alerted, nor do we know if our presence will be noticed. Our mission is to get in, pick up those individuals, and get out as fast as we can. All sub fighter pilots need to be ready and on stand-by. Head to Launch Bay and wait for orders to get wet."

Tim watched as Tony removed his own headset and hand it to the seaman waiting at the ready. The Warrant Officer-turned-sub fighter pilot made his way off the bridge and ultimately towards the Launch Bay. O'Neill made a silent prayer that it wouldn't come down to dog-fight where they'd lose one of their own. He didn't want to attend another funeral of a friend.

Taking advantage of the momentary lull on the bridge, Tim spoke up.

"Sir, I captured an encrypted message coming from somewhere within the Macronesian territory. I thought you might want to take a look at it."

Tim caught Ford's eye and the commanding officer seemed to understand that there was something more to that message than he was saying out loud. Captain Hudson seemed to notice as well, and nodded to Ford before the Ex-O moved to the communications console.

"Commander Ford, this was attached to a personal message from a station relatively close to where we are heading. It was encrypted with a top-secret UEO code, Sir." Tim sat back and watched Ford's reaction as he read the message. It wasn't the reaction he expected. Tim honestly thought the commander would be much more surprised, but in light of what they'd just been ordered to do, it made sense. He dropped his voice low so that no one nearby would hear him. "Sir, one of those individuals we are picking up for transport wouldn't happen to be Lucas, would it?"

Ford tapped the back of Tim's seat almost unconsciously as he straightened up. He made eye contact with O'Neill and his tone mirrored that of the communications officer. "There is no evidence that he's one of the two, but at this point, it really wouldn't surprise me."

Tim allowed himself a brief smile, which the commanding officer caught. Ford tilted his head and conveyed, without words, that this was information that would stay between them. There was no use giving the rest of the crew false hope, if Lucas was not involved. O'Neill watched as Ford made his way to Hudson and relayed the message Tim had decoded. The captain lifted his eyes to look at the communications officer and just nodded. Time would tell whether Lucas was coming home or if their expectations would fall short.

***

True to his word, Harrington was back within the hour, his presence preempted by the sudden flood of light in the small room. This time, however Harrington was joined by Mason Freeman, who was standing in the doorway merely observing. Lucas was ready and waiting. The moment the lights came on and the door opened, he was on his feet – albeit slightly unsteadily.

"Let's go, Wolenczak. We've got another assignment for you." The older man grabbed Lucas' upper arm and started to pull him towards the door.

Lucas planted his feet firmly in the ground and unsuccessfully tried to yank his arm out of Harrington's grip. "I'm not going with you until you tell me what's going on."

"Listen kid. You don't get to negotiate. Your services have been requested and we have been ordered to move out immediately. You can either walk on your own feet, or one of us can carry you. Understand?"

Lucas nodded and took his first step towards the door, but Harrington stopped him.

"Hold on a minute." Before Lucas had a moment to register what was happening, Harrington pulled out a syringe and pressed it to his arm. He barely had time to flinch at the sudden pinch before he saw the needle. "Don't worry, it's just an antibiotic. You don't look too good, kid. We can't have to fall apart on this new assignment." Then he discretely pressed a second syringe into Lucas' neck, and whispered into his ear, "This is a stimulant. You should feel stronger within a few minutes."

Lucas saw him slip the second syringe into his back pocket, and glanced at Freeman. It appeared as though the man had not noticed the second dose, and he only hoped that he was correct. Harrington returned the pressure to his arm and led him out of the room.

They hurried down the same corridor and down the same path they had traveled a few days prior, trailed by the smirking Freeman. Harrington was correct in comparing the man to a parasite. He was completely driven by greed, had a self-serving attitude, and usually worked alone. Lucas found it somewhat surprising that he was taking a back seat in this operation. The man was not known to "play well with others," and he could only imagine that Freeman had some high-priced incentive for his current role.

As he climbed down the ladder and through the hatch of the waiting launch, Lucas could feel the adrenaline pumping through his body. Whatever Harrington had injected directly into his bloodstream, seemed to have taken affect and he no longer felt as weak and lethargic as he had before. He could still feel the heat of the fever that was currently ravaging his body, and the tightness of his chest, but it no longer bothered him as much as it had. He didn't know if the stimulant was to credit for his new-found ability to focus on something other than how crummy he felt, or if it was the anticipation and excitement of what was to come. Lucas knew that this was their only chance to escape the clutches of the Macronesian Alliance. If they slipped up, even by the tiniest amount, their plan would be blown and they would probably find themselves looking at a fate worse than death. He had to maintain his composure. Their lives depended on it.

Lucas sat in the same seat as he had previously occupied, aware that Harrington had not attempted to restrain him. He waited to see if Freeman would notice, but the man either didn't see the oversight, or just didn't care. The man didn't seem too concerned about the threat the younger man could pose, and Lucas didn't blame him. He really didn't feel much like a force to be reckoned with. To be quite honest, he only felt as though he was still upright because of what Harrington had injected into his body.

Lucas sat quietly and watched as Harrington took the seat next to him, and Freeman moved into the tight space behind them. The pilot started up the engines and maneuvered the transport launch into the open waters. He had not paid that much attention to the vehicle the last time he'd been a passenger, but he did this time. He wasn't sure if this heavy sub had enough power to generate enough speed if they found themselves being pursued by the more efficient and deadly Macronesian fighter subs. He doubted they'd try to destroy them and the launch, but they'd easily be able to render this launch "dead in the water," and take them back into custody.

He craned his neck, trying to get a better look at the coordinates the pilot had entered into the navigation system, when he suddenly found himself doubled over, trying desperately to breathe. Hands grasping at his chest, Lucas struggled to pull oxygen into his lungs. His eyes started to water as the pain of inhaling increased. He didn't notice Harrington look over in concern and certainly did not notice the man get up out of his seat. Lucas was completely consumed by his attempt to draw air into his lungs. Almost as suddenly as it had paralyzed him, he found the tightness given in. In a desperate attempt to inhale as much oxygen as he could to make up for what he'd lost, Lucas over-compensated and started coughing uncontrollably. He regained awareness of his surroundings as a bottle of water was held within his eyesight. Lucas took it from Harrington, and taking small sips, was able to regain control of his lungs.

"You okay, Wolenczak?" Harrington's words were not as sympathetic as his tone. The older man was in fact, visibly concerned for his charge.

"Yeah." Lucas croaked, taking another gulp of water. "I'm fine." In reality, he was not fine. He knew that something was seriously wrong with him and he needed to see a doctor – soon. However, right now he didn't have that privilege. He just needed to make sure he could hold his own until they were in control of the launch and safely headed for the _seaQuest_.

John Harrington leaned in closer to Lucas and took the now empty bottle from his hands. In a voice quiet enough for Freeman not to overhear, he whispered, "When I give you a sign, do that again," and then leaned back into his own seat.

Lucas did not have to acknowledge the order, it was a given that he'd do what Harrington asked. Rather, he rubbed his eyes and massaged his aching chest. He wasn't sure how long it would be before Harrington launched into the task of taking over the transport vehicle and the two unsuspecting occupants, but he was hoping it would be soon. Harrington had not told him how long the stimulant would last, but if he had another attack like the last, no artificial drug would give him the strength to help overpower the pilot or Freeman.

Lucas glanced back towards the despised man, subconsciously running his fingers through his hacked hair cut. Freeman was sitting back in his chair, arms across his chest, with his eyes closed. Even in a relaxed position, the man still had a smirk plastered across his face. It was almost as though he expected that no one would ever get the better of him. A surprising thought, especially since the man had been tried and convicted for the attempted murder of Larry Deon. Of course, he'd managed to mastermind his own escape shortly thereafter. Lucas shook his head. Freeman was a sneaky bastard and he'd love to see the man back in prison paying the price for all the crimes he'd committed.

He turned his attention back to the pilot and the controls in front of him. It appeared as though they were heading much deeper into Macronesian territory, but without a good reference point, Lucas could not be too sure. A heavy nudge to his foot drew his thoughts away from their destination and back to their need to gain the upper hand. Harrington had practically stepped on Lucas' foot and was now looking at him with eyebrows raised. It was time.

Lucas took the hint and launched into a sudden coughing fit that could compete with the real attack he'd had just a short while before. He made sure to make it as dramatic as possible, hunching over and coughing with all his might. He wasn't exactly sure what Harrington had planned, but he was ready to follow any cue, no matter how subtle. Harrington sat up straight and turned directly towards him.

"Jesus, kid. Can't you control yourself? I'm not getting you water this time. You can get it yourself." The older man huffed and nodded towards a panel next to Freeman. Lucas took this as a hint to get up and move. As he stood, he realized that if he moved to pull a bottle of water from the storage unit, he would most definitely block Freeman's view of the front of the launch and of the pilot.

"Sorry." Lucas mumbled as he moved to place himself as directly in front of Freeman as he could, while still being able to reach the water. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Harrington slip his hand into a panel to the left of his own seat and pull out a small pulse pistol. The older man immediately headed towards the pilot. This movement did not go unnoticed. Freeman's eyes suddenly opened wide as he realized what was going on. Lucas, however, was blocking his attempt to get out of his seat.

"Hey!" the thug-for-hire yelled as he stood, trying to push Lucas aside. Taking advantage of the fact that he currently had the upper hand, Lucas used all his available strength to punch the man in the stomach and then again in the face. As his fist made contact with the soft flesh of the man's gut, he let out a barely audible grunt. Freeman was physically tougher than he appeared to be and Lucas' hand ached after the hard contact with the man's face. Lucas watched as Mason Freeman stumbled slightly before regaining his balance. He could see the anger building in the man's expression and Lucas cringed with the realization that he had no more strength left to fight. It had taken everything he had just to land those two punches and they were barely affective. He only hoped that he'd bought Harrington enough time to immobilize the pilot before he could get an emergency call out.

Mere seconds had passed, but for Lucas they felt like forever. Almost in slow motion, he saw Freeman reaching for him – grabbing him around the throat. He was flung hard into the side of the launch and felt the squeeze of the hand tighten around his neck. He frantically tried to pry the hand off of his neck, his vision narrowing with each failed attempt to inhale. Lucas was barely aware of the fact that he'd been in a similar position in his past, when he was younger and stronger. Right now, his focus was getting free and getting oxygen into his lungs. As black dots began to dance behind his eyelids, he felt his body start to go limp. It was no use. He couldn't break free from Freeman's vice-like grip.

He didn't notice Harrington lunge for Freeman or the verbal exchange between the two men. What he did notice was the lack of pressure on his airway and the ability to breathe again. Lucas slumped to the ground, back still pressed against the panels of the transport launch. He rested his head on his knees, not having the strength to hold it up anymore. His hands touched his neck. He could still feel the phantom pressure of Freeman's fingers against his hot skin – the area sensitive to the touch.

"Lucas?"

He heard Harrington call his name, but could not muster more than a quiet grunt in response.

"Come on kid, look at me." Harrington's voice was quiet and calm, but insistent. He must have overpowered Mason Freeman on his own because Lucas could no longer hear the other man's movements or voice.

Lucas raised his head and forced his eyes to open to small slits. He was just so tired. He didn't think he had anything left in him and wasn't even sure he could stand up unassisted anymore. There in front of him was Harrington and a very unconscious Freeman, hands and feet bound. The sight of the second man sitting slumped in his own seat, a drip of blood running down his cheek, was more welcome than he could have imagined.

"Come on, kid. Don't give up on me yet. I still have some work for you to do before you can rest." Harrington gave the unconscious man a quick look before moving toward Lucas. He crouched down in front of the boy and wrapped an arm around his back and under his armpit. "Think you can get up?"

Again, Lucas just grunted in response. His main focus was just to follow directions. If he started analyzing his aches and pains, there was no way he'd ever be able to move. With Harrington supporting most of his weight, he was able to pull his body back to standing. For a second, he thought he was going to pass out, but Harrington must have sensed this momentary lapse of strength and held him tighter. As a wave of nausea passed, Lucas was able to shake off some of the fuzziness of being choked almost to death.

Clearing his throat, he attempted to speak. "I..I'm okay. Just give me a minute." He placed his hands on the back of an empty seat and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he felt as though he was better prepared to move on his own. "I'm fine." He coughed, the pain in his throat almost tripled, and then subsided to an undeniable pinch.

"You sure?" Harrington did not look convinced.

"Yeah. I'm okay. What's next?" He looked at Harrington expectedly. The man obviously had a plan, even if he hadn't shared it with Lucas yet.

"Do you know how to pilot a launch?"

Lucas gave a small smile in response. Of course he could pilot a launch; he'd been driving mini-subs since before he could drive a car. "No problem. I assume you have the specific coordinates?"

"Already programmed in. Just get us to your friends without making us more obvious. I need to set a few charges." He gave Lucas a grin before turning his back.

Lucas watched in surprise as the older man pulled several small explosives from the same panel he'd hidden his weapon. The man intended to blow up the launch after they were off. Lucas made his way to the pilot's seat on unsteady legs. The pilot was sprawled out on the ground – eyes open, blankly staring at nothing. The man was very much dead. Lucas tried to push the image out of his mind, not wanting to linger on the violence he seemed to attract. Instead, Lucas stepped over the body and toward the pilot's now empty seat.

He was relieved to finally sit down and focus on the one thing he knew he could handle in his current state. He'd never piloted a transport launch of this class before, but he immediately knew it was pretty much the same as most of the transport vehicles housed by _seaQuest_. It wasn't going to take much effort to get them to their rendezvous point. What he really needed to do was to disengage the tracking system so that anyone watching their progress would not see how far off course they were heading. If he rigged the navigation system to think that they were still heading to the original destination, no one would think to raise the alarm. If luck were on their side, they wouldn't notice the launch missing until it failed to arrive on time, or Harrington was successful in blowing it up.

Lucas pulled an engineering panel off of the front console, exposing a nest of wires. He set to work stripping the appropriate wires and connecting them. Once the wiring was done, he replaced the panel and focused his attention on the programming the navigation computers. Unconsciously, Lucas wiped at the sweat beaded on his forehead. He was abnormally hot, but he didn't have time to think about his physical state. Instead, he put all his remaining strength into making sure that they got as much of a head start as they needed.

Lucas felt Harrington's presence next to him before the older man spoke. He didn't look up to acknowledge him rather he kept his fingers flying across the keypad until he felt comfortable that his task was complete.

"Hey kid. What are you doing?"

Lucas finally looked up, exhausted. "I just programmed the sonar to send a discrete signal to the _seaQuest_ when we get within range to identify ourselves. We can't identify ourselves when we're hailed, so this is the best way to get them to let us dock without the Macronesian's overhearing us. _SeaQuest_ should be looking out for us, so if I know Lt. O'Neill, he'll definitely pick this up. The Macronesian's won't unless they are specifically looking for it." He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. The stimulant had definitely worn off a long time ago. "What's the rest of the plan? "

"Well, as soon as we are on board _seaQuest_, and far enough away, I'll detonate the explosives." Harrington held up a small remote detonation device. "There shouldn't be enough left of this tin can for them to question our survival."

Lucas looked at Harrington without truly seeing the man. Another idea had just popped into his head. "Don't you think they'll get suspicious when they find the wreckage so far from our coordinates?"

"Definitely. But we'll be in UEO territory by then. We'll put the launch on autopilot before we abandon ship, but I can't guarantee that she'll make it on-course before she blows."

"I have a better idea. I can program the autopilot to fly erratically until the launch reaches a point close to where we should be heading. You can also record a mayday to play on repeat. We can time the detonation to coincide with the recording. "

"They'll just think we had problems with the vehicle." Harrington clapped Lucas on the back, and Lucas winced slightly. "Sorry." He removed his hand.

"I'm okay." Lucas stated. Part of him thought that if he kept telling himself that, it would be true. In reality, he was not. He cleared his throat and pulled up more data to manipulate.

"Think you can handle all that? What's our ETA?" Harrington frowned as he looked over Lucas' shoulder.

"Um, about 30 minutes. That should be plenty of time." Lucas rubbed his eyes to clear his somewhat blurred vision and set to work. He didn't notice the worried expression on John Harrington's face and the quick glance the older man gave his watch.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

The bridge continued to glow a foreboding orange while the crew of _seaQuest_ waited with anticipation for any indication of the two passengers they were supposed to pick up. Tim chewed his lip. He was anxious to learn if Lucas really was one of the individuals they were ordered to take on board and even more nervous that the _seaQuest_ would be forced out of position before they arrived. The boat was dangerously close to the Macronesian border and everyone was on alert for any sign of the "enemy" approaching. They had been maintaining position for the past 30 minutes, waiting for any sign of an approaching vehicle. Up until now, the water had been eerily quiet.

Lt. Henderson's voice broke the tense silence on the bridge. "Sir, scanners are picking up a reading."

"Identification?"

"Negative, sir."

"Mr. O'Neill, deploy a WSKR. Let's see if we can get a visual."

"Aye, Captain. WSKR deployed, Sir."

O'Neill switched to monitoring the progress of the WSKR, making sure it was heading in the direction the scanners flagged. "We have a visual, Sir."

"On the screen, Mr. O'Neill."

Almost instantaneously, the monitor came to life, a small transport vehicle was moving directly towards them; the Macronesian symbol blatantly displayed on the side of the launch.

"Commander, how close are they to the neutral zone?"

Commander Ford leaned into the console in front of him, pausing for a moment. "They will enter the zone within seconds, Sir."

"Let me know as soon as they do." Captain Hudson turned back to O'Neill. "Open hailing frequency."

"Channel open."

"They have entered the neutral zone."

Captain Hudson stood tall in front of the screen and nodded to Tim. With the press of the button, the boat was ready to broadcast Hudson's message. "This is Captain Hudson of the _seaQuest_. What is your business in the neutral zone?"

Tim listened intently to the channel, waiting for any indication that the hail had been acknowledged. "No response, Sir."

"This is _seaQuest_. Acknowledge."

"Still no response….no, wait." Tim pressed the headphone closer to his right ear, straining to hear something; anything.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" The captain ordered, his curt tone an indication of the stress they were all under.

"I think I'm picking something up from that sub." He paused, listened a little closer then grinned. "It's a UEO identity confirmation code."

Captain Hudson rocked back on his heels, and took a deep breath. "Mr. O'Neill, alert all security personnel to report to Launch Bay Three and send word to the launch to head there for docking." He turned towards the clam shell doors of the bridge and gestured to Commander Ford. "Commander." Ford moved to follow him. "Lt. Henderson, you have the bridge."

"Yes, Sir."

As Lonnie moved into position behind Tim, he could barely contain the grin that threatened to break out across his face. He knew he was being overly optimistic, but he just had a feeling that their missing crew member was about to come home. The look on the rest of the crew's face when they saw Lucas was going to be priceless.

***

John Harrington swung open the exit hatch of the launch and looked up at the rungs leading to _seaQuest's_ launch bay. It wasn't far to climb, but it was straight up. He glanced at Lucas who was several steps behind him. The boy did not look good and was visibly swaying on his feet. He had taken on a gray pallor and dark circles seemed etched beneath both of his eyes. Even from this distance, Harrington could see the slightly bluish tint of his lips, the sheen of sweat on the kid's forehead and could hear him struggle with each breath. He considered climbing ahead and sending a medic down to get him, but Harrington knew that Lucas would not be impressed by that idea. Despite the fact that the kid was very sick, he was also very stubborn and determined. From the short time he'd had been with him, Harrington knew that Lucas would get himself up and out of that launch – unassisted – even if he passed out from the exertion upon reaching the top.

"You planning on leaving this launch anytime soon?" Lucas met his eye.

"Sorry, kid. Just wondering if you'll be able to make it up there in one piece. You don't look so hot." He decided that honesty would be best.

"I'm fine. Do you have the remote? We can get the launch wet and on course as soon as we get out of here." Lucas sounded somewhat annoyed, but Harrington knew it was because he was anxious to get back among his crew mates.

Harrington patted the pocket where he'd place the remote and indicated for Lucas to start the climb out of the launch. He watched as the kid set his jaw and grabbed the first rungs of the ladder. He was completely focused on moving up – albeit very slowly – and Harrington was again surprised at how tough Lucas really was. Harrington waited for Lucas to get a few feet in front of him before moving back into the belly of the launch. With relative ease, Harrington heaved the still-unconscious Mason Freeman over his shoulder. He slowly stepped up to the ladder and grabbed the first set of rungs with one hand. Hauling both himself and his heavy load up, he followed Lucas into the heart of _seaQuest_.

As he stepped out into the opening of _seaQuest_, Harrington was greeted by several shocked faces, as well as those he knew to be Captain Oliver Hudson and Commander Jonathan Ford. He immediately lowered Freeman and unceremoniously dropped him at his feet. The man had yet to stir – thanks in part to the stun setting on his weapon and a hard knock on the head – but his hands and feet were still bound if he did. It was obvious from the faces around them that all present recognized Freeman immediately.

Before anyone else had a moment to speak, Lucas had moved to the control panel closest to their shuttle and was already pulling levers and pushing buttons. He was re-flooding the area so that they could send their launch back out into the open water. When Lucas looked up at him and nodded, Harrington pulled the remote from his pocket and activated the time-delay on the explosives' detonation. If everything worked out according to their plan, the transport vehicle would start its erratic behavior within the hour, send the mayday, and promptly self-destruct.

All of this took a matter of seconds, within which no one spoke. The spell of shock and surprise broken, Captain Hudson moved closer to the two recent arrivals, followed by Ford. He appeared slightly hesitant, almost as though he was trying to decide who to greet first: his presumed-dead ensign, or follow proper protocol and introduce himself to the stranger Harrington knew himself to be.

The decision was made for him. Lucas, who had been gripping the console panels with white knuckles, let go to step towards his captain. He didn't make it. They all watched as Lucas' eyes rolled back into his head and his knees buckled. Captain Hudson moved fast, grabbing Lucas before he could hit the ground. Harrington watched as several officers reacted in alarm. Commander Ford, with concern etched into his face, reached for this PAL and barked an order, "medical team to Launch Bay Three. STAT," and then crouched down next to where the captain had laid Lucas on the ground.

Harrington watched as the captain placed two fingers on Lucas' neck – checking his pulse. Both Hudson and Commander Ford looked towards him questioningly.

"What the hell happened to him?"

"I'm sorry, Captain. That's classified. He's been sick for a few days. I think he'll be okay with medical treatment."

The captain raised his eyebrow in skepticism. Harrington saw that he was going to work hard to convince this man that he didn't deserve to be tossed in the brig. Just at that moment, the medical team arrived.

"Mr. Piccolo." The captain nodded at a seaman who was anxiously shuffling from one foot to another, very obviously distressed. The seaman glanced at Hudson then moved to take his position next to Lucas.

"He's a tough kid," Harrington admitted.

"Yes, he is." Captain Hudson responded.

They watched as the doctor did a cursory check of her patient before ordering him to be moved to the gurney. She then moved to check the vitals of the other unconscious body on the floor. His identity was not lost on her either. She gave the captain a knowing look as she stood. "I'll check on him later. The brig I presume?"

Hudson gave a curt nod and touched the doctor's arm as she walked past. "Notify me as soon as Wolenczak's awake." She nodded and followed the gurney out towards Med Bay.

"Get him to the brig," the captain ordered two of his security personnel, "I want two guards posted outside his door at all times. The rest of you can head back to your posts."

Commander Ford moved to join Hudson and Harrington, Piccolo having accompanied the doctor and Lucas.

"Commander Jonathan Ford," the commander held out his hand, which Harrington shook.

"John Harrington"

The captain cleared his throat. It had not missed these men that Harrington had not identified with which agency he was affiliated.

"I'm sorry, but the UEO did not inform us as to whom we would be picking up. Obviously, we had hoped Ensign Wolenczak would be with you, but we were not given any information on either of your identities."

"I'm sorry, Captain. If you don't mind, I'd like to take this conversation to a more discrete location where I'll be able to fill you in on all the details I am permitted to disclose."

Captain Hudson nodded in agreement and started heading into the corridor. Both the commander and Harrington followed. He paused suddenly, stopping the other two in their tracks. "Oh, Mr. Ford, would you like to do the honors and inform the bridge of Mr. Wolenczak's return to _seaQuest_?" The twinkle in his eye was not missed by Ford.

"Yes, Sir." Commander Ford responded with a smile. "If you don't mind, Captain, I think Lt. O'Neill should be the first to know. I'm sure he's been dying to find out if his hunch was correct."

"Fine. Just make sure this information stays on the boat. I don't think we need Wolenczak's presence announced to Bourne just yet. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Harrington?" Captain Hudson glared at the man to his right.

"I think that's a wise assumption."

"Good. We'll meet you in the Ward Room in ten minutes, Commander."

***

Tim glanced at his watch again. Only three minutes had passed since the last time he'd checked. He drummed his fingers against the armrest of his seat and looked out across the room. Everyone else seemed slightly anxious, but that could be attributed to the fact that they were still on an elevated alert status. They hadn't heard from the captain since he and Ford had headed toward the Launch Bay, but they all knew that the fighter subs were still dry and no Macronesian vessels had been sighted nearby. Things were quiet, yet tense, but no one else had any idea who their new passengers might be.

Tim looked up and caught Lonnie's eye.

"What's the matter, Lieutenant?"

"Sorry. Nothing to report."

"Can you stop making that noise then?" She pointed at his hands which were still tapping their own rhythm against the hard seat.

He smiled sheepishly in response. He hadn't even been aware he'd been doing it. "Sorry." O'Neill didn't have time to turn back towards his console when he noticed Ford stride onto the bridge, a huge grin plastered across his face. He immediately made his way over to Tim.

"And?"

"You were right, Tim." Commander Ford whispered. Tim grinned back. Ford raised his voice for the rest of the crew to hear. "Downgrade the security alert, and move us out of here, Lt. Henderson."

"Yes, Sir. Destination?"

"Put us back on course for New Cape Quest."

"Aye, Sir."

"Can I have your attention, please?"

The entire bridge crew stopped what they were doing and looked expectantly at the commander.

"We have successfully completed our mission and extracted two UEO citizens from Macronesian territory." The commander couldn't help but wear his emotion on his sleeve as he continued. His smile was wide and true. "This information is classified and is to remain on the bridge for now. It cannot get off of this boat until we are cleared by UEO Headquarters. One of those citizens is Lucas Wolenczak."

"What?"

"Lucas?"

"He's not dead?"

"How can that be?"

The questions and murmurings from the large room echoed and the confusion of the crew was evident on all their faces. Tim beamed as he looked at his colleagues. Lonnie must have noticed his lack of confusion almost immediately as her questioning look appeared to be directed at him. He just smiled and shrugged in response.

She looked at Ford and asked the question next on all their minds, "Where is he?"

Ford's smile faltered a bit. "He's in Med Bay with Dr. Perry. Piccolo is with him."

"Is he okay?"

"He will be." Commander Ford turned back to Tim. "Lt. O'Neill, you're relieved of duty for the rest of your watch."

"Yes, Sir." Tim pulled off his headset, prepared to hand it off to his replacement.

"Lt. Henderson, you still have the bridge. We'll be in the Ward Room if you need us."

"Aye, Sir"

Commander Ford exited the bridge and O'Neill was not far behind. As he passed Lonnie, she reached out a hand and touched Tim's shoulder. "Tim, tell him we're happy he's back."

"I will."

"Oh, and Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell him I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Just tell him, okay?"

Tim took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "I'll tell him, but you need to talk to him yourself. I think you'll both feel better."

"I know. I will. As soon as I get off duty."

They shared a small smile and Tim headed for Med Bay. This was the lightest he'd felt in months. He wasn't sure what kind of shape Lucas would be in, but he knew it was a hell of a lot better than being in a pine box buried in the ground.


	19. Chapter 18

**A/N: Just some filler. Nothing exciting in this chapter**

**Chapter Eighteen**

Tim walked into the medical wing with a smile still plastered on his face. He wasn't surprise to see Tony there already – pacing back and forth in the general waiting area. The younger man was having a hard time keeping still, and only paused for a moment when he saw O'Neill walk through the door.

"They won't let me back there yet. Doc. Perry told me to stay put."

Tim could see the worry etched in Piccolo's face.

"Have you seen him at all?"

"Yeah. I was there when he collapsed. He didn't look too good, Tim."

"Commander Ford seems to think he'll be okay. He wouldn't say that if it wasn't true."

Tony looked at Tim for a moment, and the communications officer got the feeling that Tony was going to respond, but all he did was start his pacing again. Tim sat in the first open seat he saw and tapped his knee nervously – waiting for the doctor to give them permission to head back. They didn't have to wait long. Doctor Perry stepped through the door to the waiting area and did not appear surprised that Tim had joined Tony. Tim stood up immediately and Tony stopped pacing. Both waited expectedly.

Tony was the first to speak, "Is he going to be okay, doc?"

Doctor Perry smiled. "I'll tell you what I just told the captain. He's going to be fine. He has a nasty case of pneumonia, is severely dehydrated, malnourished, and is completely exhausted. On top of that, he's covered in bruises. However, with treatment, he should recover completely. You can go back and sit with him, but I'm warning you, boys. In order to heal faster, he needs to sleep. If you wake him up, I will personally make sure you get latrine duty for a week. Got it?"

Tim and Tony grinned, "Yes Doctor."

She stepped aside to let the two men pass by. Tim hesitated for a second when he first caught a glimpse of his friend lying motionless in the bed. Unlike Tony, he hadn't seen Lucas since he set out for the mission and was shocked at his appearance. He was extraordinarily pale, with deep dark circles set in beneath his closed eyes. His face was covered in bruises of slightly different shades of color – indicating that they'd been inflicted at different times – and his nose was swollen. Tim immediately noticed the purple bruises circling Lucas' neck boldly contrasting the paleness of his skin. Most shocking, however, was how thin Lucas had become. He'd always been a slim kid, but now he was nothing but skin and bones.

Tim stepped closer and tried not to get in the way of a nurse who was busy fiddling with some of the equipment monitoring Lucas. Tony pulled up a couple of chairs next to the bed, and immediately sat down; indicating to Tim that he should do the same. Both men watched in silence as the nurse shifted her attention from the machines to Lucas. Using a damp washcloth, she wiped his face gently, removing the thin sheen of sweat that was being produced as his body fought a high fever. Tim had a hard time believing that his friend was actually going to be alright after this. None of them had any idea of what he'd been through during the two weeks he'd been missing, and how it would affect him in the future. Tim only hoped that the friend they'd seen grow up would return to them completely.

The nurse stepped away, leaving Tim and Tony alone with the sleeping form of Lucas.

"You knew." It was a statement, not a question and Tony's tone of voice was not friendly. In fact, he sounded down-right angry.

"About Lucas being alive?"

"Yeah. I figured somethin' was up after you went through all those files and you didn't want to talk about it."

"I didn't know he was alive, Tony." Tim's response was soft-spoken. "I hoped he was alive and I had some information that led me to believe he might be, but none of us knew for sure until he came onboard."

"You could've told me, man."

"I wanted to, Tony, I swear I did. But McGath ordered us not to say anything. What if it hadn't been Lucas? Would you've wanted to be let down like that?"

Tony was quiet, obviously thinking about the question.

They both stared at Lucas, watching his chest move with every ragged breath.

"I'd have told you, Tim."

"No, Tony, you wouldn't. Once you're commissioned, you'd do exactly what I did – follow your superior's orders. It's part of being an officer and you know it."

"I still don't like it."

"Yeah. Neither do I."

"Think he's gonna to be the same after this?"

"I don't know. I hope so, but I doubt it."

"Me too."

Silence again.

"Darwin already knows he's back onboard. He's been swimmin' back and forth in the aquatubes since Lucas was brought here."

"I'm not surprised."

"Have they told Bridger yet?"

Tony's question caught Tim slightly off guard. They'd been ordered by McGath to keep Lucas' survival completely classified. Did that mean Captain Bridger as well? Surely they'd let the man know that Lucas was alive? He certainly hoped so, but then a part of him cringed at the realization that Bridger had already received and read Lucas' letter. And he was the one to blame for that.

"I don't know, Tony. I'm not sure if they can. We're supposed to keep everything classified. The news isn't supposed to leave the boat. I'm not sure if that means keeping it from Captain Bridger as well."

"They can't keep this from him. Lucas needs for him to know."

"Yeah. He does."

Both Tony and Tim sat in silence for a while before they noticed Lucas move. It was the smallest twitch of a finger, but it didn't miss the attention of either man. They both sat a little taller in their seats, unaware that they were holding their breath, waiting for Lucas to wake. They watched as several more fingers grasped at the blanket covering his body and as the other hand rose to touch the oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. Without opening his eyes, Lucas pulled the mask away from his face and groaned.

"Dude, I don't think you're supposed to do that." Tony stood up and reached over to place the mask back on Lucas' face.

Lucas turned his head slowly towards his friends and opened his eyes. It took a few seconds for recognition to set it, but when it did, Lucas gave his friends a small smile. He lifted his hand – lying flat on the blanket – up slightly and then tried to push himself into a seated position against the pillows. His attempts were thwarted by a coughing fit, and Tony gently pushed him back down.

"You better stay down, man. If the doc catches you trying to get up and move, she's going to kick us out."

Tim nodded in agreement. "We're not supposed to wake you up, so you'd better stay still."

Lucas seemed resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to get any help in sitting up, and laid his head back down on the pillow. He did pull the mask off of his face, despite Tony's insistence that he keep it on.

"Hi." Lucas' voice was barely audible and he grimaced in pain after he spoke.

"You want some water?" Tim reached over to the side table for a cup and pitcher of water."

Lucas nodded and reached with shaking hands for the cup that O'Neill offered. They watched as Lucas tentatively swallowed a few sips before handing the cup back.

"Welcome back from the dead." Tony gave Lucas a lopsided grin and Lucas returned it as best he could.

"It's nice to be back," he whispered.

"How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Should we call the doctor for you?" Tim was ready to push the call switch for a nurse or Doctor Perry.

Lucas just shook his head and closed his eyes. It was obvious to both Tim and Tony that he was losing the fight to stay awake. Within minutes, he was back asleep.

"You should probably leave and come back later." They turned to see Dr. Perry standing at the door. "He won't wake up again for a while." She stepped into the room and approached Lucas. She immediately replaced the oxygen mask on his face and fiddled with a machine next to him.

Tim pushed himself to standing, and Tony did the same. "We'll be back later."

Dr. Perry smiled and gave a quick wink, "I know."

"Think we should go see Darwin?" Tony questioned the communications officer.

"Sure. He's probably really anxious."

They headed towards the Moon Pool, knowing that if the cetacean was swimming in the nearby tubes, he'd see them heading that way.

***

He was floating in a grey fog; on the precipice of sleep and awareness. He felt extremely detached from his body, even though he could sense the slight movement his fingers were making. Very gradually, Lucas became aware of the sounds and smells around him. They were familiar – comforting even. He knew instantly that he was in the medical wing of _seaQuest_ and no longer trapped within the four walls of his concrete prison. He could feel the stiff mattress beneath his back – a welcome change to the hard floor – and the warm blanket tucked around his body. Most importantly, he felt better than he had in days. He was no longer shivering uncontrollably and covered in sweat – although he still felt unnaturally warm – and his chest no longer felt like it was being squeezed in an industrial-sized vice.

He slowly opened his eyes. He was definitely in Med Bay. He recognized the sterile environment from a few too many past encounters, and was very familiar with the view from the bed. He felt the plastic mask pressed over his mouth and nose, and pulled it off. As the haze of sleep lifted, he realized that this wasn't the first time he'd done this. He had the faintest recollection of waking up to find both Tony and Tim sitting next to the bed. How long ago had that been? He turned his head to the side – slowing his movement when he felt the dull throb of a headache brewing – and found that he wasn't alone after all.

Lonnie was sitting in the chair next to the bed, with her head propped on her arms – asleep. He smiled slightly. It was overwhelmingly comforting to see his friends again. After spending hours on end alone, trapped in that small room, it was a relief to see a friendly face – even one that was asleep. Trying not to wake her, Lucas attempted to push himself up into a seated position. He was unable to hold back a grunt as his body unleashed the full force of pain that was the result of weeks of neglect and abuse. He'd almost forgotten about the bruises that had painted his torso and face various shades of blue, purple and yellow, but they weren't going to stay forgotten. Lucas bit his lip as he pushed through the sudden onslaught of pain and got himself up from a prone position. He closed his eyes, irritated that this small movement could have caused so much discomfort and left him completely exhausted – again. Now that he was sitting straight up, he realized that he was going to have to scoot himself backwards until he could rest his back against the headboard. _Damn_. With shaking arms, Lucas pushed his body back and silently cursed how weak he felt as the tightness in his chest returned. His movements did not go unnoticed.

"Here, let me help you." Lonnie's head snapped up and she was immediately on her feet, reaching for his pillows. As she readjusted them behind his back, Lucas sighed and sank down into them.

"Sorry. I didn't want to wake you." His voice was little more than a croak and he could almost feel the air grating against his raw throat. He raised a hand and gingerly touched the area where Freeman had wrapped his hands. It was sensitive to the lightest pressure and he could only imagine what it looked like.

"Don't be silly, Lucas." Lonnie patted his hand gently before lowering herself back into her seat. "I've been waiting for you to wake up for hours. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Hours?" Lucas was confused. How long had he been lying there? "What time is it?"

"2100 hours. You've been sleeping for a long time."

Thanks to recent events, he no longer had a good grasp of the passing of time, but he was almost certain that he and Harrington had come aboard this morning. He didn't know when he'd awakened to find O'Neill and Piccolo in the room, but it must have been quite a while if Lonnie had arrived after they'd left. Lucas absent-mindedly raised his hand and ran his fingers through the shorter tufts of hair on his head. He hated the feeling of having lost so much time.

"I've been sleeping all day? Then how come I'm still so tired," he mumbled.

Lonnie took one of his hands in both of hers and gave him a small smile. "Because you've been through hell, your body has taken more abuse than it could handle, and because you're sick."

"Right." Lucas noted the collection of machines surrounding his bed. He didn't feel sick enough to warrant most of them, but Dr. Perry must have been going with the "more is better" theory. At least he was only hooked up to one IV at this point. With a quick glance at the back of fluid hanging to his left, he realized the obvious. After days of feeling as though he was literally going to die of starvation and dehydration, he no longer felt the same desperation for water. It appeared as though the doctor was treating his dehydration the old fashioned way: fill him up with fluids as fast as his body could handle. He wasn't going to complain, however he still felt the gnaw of hunger starting to build again. He turned his attention back to the visitor seated beside him.

"I should call Dr. Perry. She wanted to know when you finally woke up." Lonnie stated without moving towards the call button. Instead, she leaned in closer to him. "Lucas, I am so, so sorry. I should've noticed you weren't right behind me. I should have been there with you. It was my job to make sure you got onto that launch with me."

Lucas could see her eyes glisten with tears that threatened to fall. He squeezed one of her hands still covering his. He hadn't expected her to feel guilty about the position he ended up in. It hadn't even crossed his mind.

"Lonnie, don't. It wasn't your fault. We should never have been sent there in the first place. The UEO should have known it was a trap." He paused. He couldn't keep the emotion out of his voice. "They _did_ know it was a trap, but they sent us in anyway." He shook his head, and took a moment to gain some semblance of control over the anger he was currently feeling towards the UEO. He looked her directly in the eye, his voice somewhat more subdued. "You had no way of protecting me, Lonnie, so don't even think about blaming yourself. They wanted me. They planned that whole charade to get me. And they got me."

"but, I should have.."

"Lonnie. There was nothing you could have done." There was a tone of finality in his voice and she seemed to sense it.

"Can I get you anything? Books, a computer, smuggle in some junk food?" She gave a mischievous grin when she mentioned the junk food. Most of the original crew knew of his affinity for less-than-nutritious snack items, and it had been a common subject of many a joke at his expense.

"Did you recover my palmtop at all?" He looked at her hopefully.

She smiled sympathetically in response. "Sorry, Lucas. I didn't bring anything back. Everything's gone. I can look into getting you a new one though."

"Okay, thanks." He tried to stifle a yawn and struggled to keep his eyes from drooping closed. He couldn't believe that he was starting to doze off again.

"I'll let you rest. I'm pretty sure that Piccolo and Dagwood will be in here again soon."

Before she could turn away, Lucas grabbed her hand. "Lonnie, there's one thing you can do for me."

She turned back to him and waited expectantly. "Sure, you name it."

"Um, do you think you could fix my hair?" He ran his hand along the top of his head again and looked at her sheepishly.

"What, you don't trust the ship's barber to do a good job?" She grinned. Lucas took this as her agreeing to undertake the task.

"Let's just say that I want to keep as much hair on my head as possible – not less."

"Sure. I'll bring a barber kit with me when I visit tomorrow, okay? Sweet dreams, Lucas."

Unable to hold them open any longer, he closed his eyes and sank deeper into the pillows.


	20. Chapter 19

**A/N: And now the story is starting to come to a close. As of right now, there is one more full chapter written and then the hopes of one more after that. I'm moving a lot slower these days, so the wait between the final chapters might be longer than before. Hopefully, I haven't lost too many readers in this lengthy process, rather gained a few. If you have never taken the time to submit a review/comment, please do so. I take annonymous comments, so you don't have to sign into the site. I'd love to hear from you all whether or not you've liked it, hated it, thought it was bunk, etc. Thanks for reading...**

**Chapter Nineteen**

He sat up straight – fast – breathing heavily, and immediately regretted the decision as his ribs screamed in protest. Lucas felt a firm hand on his upper arm and relaxed back into his pillows.

"Another dream?" Dr. Perry asked in concern.

He just nodded, waiting for his heart rate to slow back down. This was the third time he'd woken up in a panic – the third nightmare he'd been ripped from – during the night. The first time, he'd woken screaming. His blood pressure and heart rate had shot up high and fast, immediately alerting the medical team. He'd found himself flanked by both the doctor and a nurse before he'd even had time to wake up completely. Once he was awake, the memories of the nightmares were murky and vague; the only thing he remembered was the feeling of pure terror. After each dream, he'd tried to stay awake for longer stretches of time, but found this task to be utterly impossible. Dr. Perry had told him it was a combination of his body's overwhelming need for rest, and the drugs she was continuously pumping into his system.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." He couldn't even if he wanted to. Just like the others, he couldn't remember any of the details of this dream. "What's the time?" He desperately hoped it was a more reasonable hour than the last time he woke. He really wanted someone to come and visit. Each time he's woken up alone, it had brought back some of the panic he'd felt when he'd been trapped in that concrete prison. Seeing one of his friends would remind him that he was back on _seaQuest_. Home.

Dr. Perry turned her attention away from the new bag of fluids she'd attached to his IV, and glanced down at her watch. "0630. I imagine you should start seeing a stream of visitors soon." She must have sensed that he was anxious about being left alone. "Are you ready to try some food?"

"Definitely. I'm starving." He really was. He could feel his stomach rumble at the mere thought of food.

"Don't get your hopes up, Lucas. I'm going to start you on a clear liquid diet first. Once I know your body can handle that, we'll move onto solid food."

He groaned.

Dr. Perry rolled her eyes and shook her head in mock annoyance. "It won't be so bad. Broth first, then if you keep that down, maybe I'll even let you have some jello." She then winked at him before turning around.

"Ah. It looks like your first visitor of the day has arrived. I'll have your breakfast sent in shortly, Lucas, and I'll be back to check on you later."

Lucas looked towards the door to see Tony standing there awkwardly. Dr. Perry smiled as she walked past the seaman on her way out the room.

"Luke, you scared the crap out of me."

"Don't call me 'Luke,'" Lucas grinned at his friend.

"Yeah, well don't go disappearin' like that again. You looked like hell, yesterday. I was worried." Tony admitted. "You look better today." Tony walked closer to the bed and Lucas noticed he was holding something.

"I feel better. Is that for me?" He pointed at the book his friend was holding.

"Oh, yeah. I figured you might get bored lyin' in here, so I brought one of your books." He handed it over and Lucas grinned when he saw which ratty and well-read paperback Tony had picked out.

"_The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_. I forgot I even had this on board. Where'd you find it?"

Tony gave him a sheepish grin. "I dug through your locker. I couldn't pronounce the titles of most of the books you got in there. I figured this one at least sounded interesting."

"Thanks. It was one of my favorites when I was a kid. You haven't read it?"

"Nope. Maybe I'll borrow it sometime."

"Sure. Anytime." Lucas placed the book in his lap; the awkwardness of their conversation making him uncomfortable. "You going to sit down?" He tried to keep his voice even – to hide the desperation for company.

"Nah. I can't. Sorry, Lucas. I have an early shift. I just thought I'd swing by and bring you the book before I headed to the bridge."

Lucas tried to keep his face from falling. "That's okay. Will you come back later?"

Tony gave him a huge grin. "I'll bring a deck of cards with me after shift. We'll see if you've lost your knack for counting cards."

"I don't count cards!"

"Sure, you don't." Tony turned to leave. "I'll see you in a few hours, Luke."

"Yeah. See you later, Tony."

Left alone again, Lucas waited for his unappetizing breakfast to appear, and opened his book to page one.

***

He hadn't realized he'd dozed off until he felt someone take the book out of his hands. Lucas woke with a start, eyes opened wide. He gave a sigh of relief when he realized it was just Commander Ford.

"Commander, don't you know not to sneak up on someone who's sleeping?" Lucas half-heartedly joked. In reality, his heart was racing and he had been slightly panicked.

"Sorry. Dr. Perry told me that you would be in and out, and I just assumed you wouldn't wake up for a while." He held the book out for Lucas and then sat down.

Lucas, propped up against the pillows, tried to hide his grimace as he adjusted his position. "Is this a social call, or are you here on business?" He was only half-kidding. The generally serious commander was wearing a slightly more somber expression than usual, if that were possible, and it was making him nervous.

"A little of both." The older man took a deep breath. "I had to call Captain Bridger and tell him you were dead. Don't you ever make me have to do that again." He patted Lucas on the leg.

"Sorry."

"I called him again yesterday . He knows you're alive and back on board. He wanted me to give you a message."

"I guess my return from the dead was better coming from you, then opening the vidlink to find the face of a ghost." A bad joke. "What's the message?" He wasn't sure what the captain thought of him anymore. He remembered their last conversation, and while it had shown some signs of an olive branch, Lucas couldn't be sure that the captain had forgiven him for joining the military.

"He said that he read the letter and told me to tell you 'thank you.' He wants you to call him when you feel comfortable. He said he didn't expect it to be right away if you weren't ready."

"Oh. The letter." Lucas closed his eyes for a moment. He'd forgotten that he'd given it to Tim to give to the captain. Of course Bridger had read it.

"Are you tired? Do you want me to come back later?"

Lucas did not want him to go. He quickly opened his eyes, noting the look of concern on Ford's face. "No, no. I'm fine. Just thinking."

"It's good to have you back, Lucas."

"It's good to _be_ back." Lucas remembered the video Harrington had showed him, and changed the subject. "I wanted to thank you, Commander Ford, for the funeral." He smiled at the reaction. "It looked like a very nice one" adding, "even though I'm not dead."

"Wait. How did you know about the funeral?"

"Harrington showed me pictures and a video. Dr. Perry said you arranged the whole thing. You didn't have to."

"Lucas, you didn't give me much choice. You didn't even tell me that you'd listed me as the executer of your estate." Ford sounded only slightly exasperated. "Why _did_ you list me? Surely you could have picked Captain Bridger? Someone else?"

"I wanted someone who could make a rational decision on my behalf. Someone who wouldn't make rash decisions based on how _they_ felt. I wanted to be sure that if my life-support needed to be pulled, that the right decision would be made. I trust you with my life, Commander. I couldn't think of anyone else I could trust more."

"Thank you." Commander Ford gave him a small smile. "There is someone else you need to talk to. O'Neill. He single-handedly convinced Captain Hudson that you were alive and got McGath to dig a little further into your disappearance."

"Really? He got my message?"

"Message?" Ford looked slightly confused.

"I added a tag onto all communications sent out from a Macronesian research facility."

"Oh. Yes, he did intercept that – so did Darwin – but even before then, Tim was convinced you weren't dead. He went through hours of audio from the mission and found something suspicious. Like I said, I think you should talk to him."

Lucas was curious but he could tell that the commander wasn't going to tell him much more. He'd just have to find out from Tim directly. He noticed that Commander Ford's face was back to being serious.

"I guess this means we're going to talk business?"

"Something like that. Harrington briefed us. We know what happened, Lucas. As soon as you are ready, we'll need you to give your account of the past two weeks; starting with the mission. We have some of the audio, and Lt. Henderson's accounts, but we need yours on record as well."

"Fine." He really did not feel like describing every last detail of his imprisonment, but he knew they needed it. He also needed to warn the UEO about the biological weapons the Macronesian Alliance was close to completing. Hopefully Harrington had already informed them, but he needed to make sure that the UEO council understood the severity of the outcome if Macronesia managed to use those weapons. "When?"

"Captain Hudson and I will come back later today. We'll talk to Dr. Perry first – to make sure you're ready."

"I'm ready." He was saying it really to convince himself more than Ford, but he didn't need the commander to know that.

"I know, but right now there's someone else who needs to talk to you." With that, Ford stood up and walked to the door. He gestured to someone standing outside Lucas' line of sight. The young man was somewhat surprised to see John Harrington enter the room. Lucas glanced back at Ford who slipped quietly through the door. He was going to leave them alone to talk.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" Harrington indicated to the now-vacant seat.

"Go ahead. I won't stop you." Lucas was trying to figure out what the man wanted from him. Was he going to attempt to defend himself, or was he merely checking so see what sort of damaged he'd done?

"I have a lot of explaining to do, Lucas. Commander Ford has assured me that no one will interrupt us for a while. Much of what I'm going to tell you is classified well beyond the security clearances of the top ranking UEO officials, including the Secretary-General and Captain Hudson, although they are both now aware. What I tell you must stay in this room. Understood?"

Lucas nodded, "yeah," and waited for Harrington to continue.

"Eighteen years ago, I was a recent graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy and assigned to a small-class sub. Not long after I first got my feet wet, my sub went down in the North Atlantic War. I don't have very clear memories of the incident, or how I managed to make it out alive, but I did. I was rescued by locals living on a small island with no memory of who I was or how I came to be there. By the time I was discovered alive by the U.S. Navy, I'd already been declared dead for over two years. At the time, the United States had created a highly classified covert operations agency and completely disbanded the CIA. To this day, most people do not even know of this agency's existence. The United States took advantage of my "death" to offer me a role as an agent within this agency, and I accepted. "

"Section Seven?" Lucas interjected.

"No. Section Seven is well-known within the UEO. Technically, the agency I'm associated with, doesn't even exist. Understand?"

Lucas nodded and waited for Harrington to continue.

"After the UEO was created, the Agency was moved from the United States to the UEO. Even now, we operate as a separate entity and very few UEO officials know of its existence. My role in the Agency is to assume a new identity and to become deeply embedded as a covert operations agent in countries that are considered to be threats to the confederations of the UEO. I've been assigned to several places, but most recently, and for the longest, in Macronesia. We knew long before the rest of the world that Alexander Bourne was a threat. I was assigned to infiltrate his inner circle by whatever means I felt were necessary, and feed the Agency intelligence information as it arose. For 15 years, I did just that as John Harrington. Over time, I gained their trust. I was hired as a private consultant to work with unwilling citizens and scientists. My job was to turn them into willing participants, through any means necessary. Bourne specifically identified you as the next target, and I was hired to make you the newest part of his specialized science team."

Lucas stared with ice cold eyes at the man sitting next to him. He didn't need to know why he'd been singled out, Harrington had made that clear when he was still a prisoner, but it didn't make him less angry. "So, you knew that Bourne wanted me, was planning my abduction and you helped them fake my death. You were willing to just hand me over to Bourne, because you wanted to get closer to him. Did the UEO know about this? They were just going to leave me there and let everyone think I was dead?"

Harrington did not flinch. "I had to make a decision for my country and for the better good of the rest of the world: sacrifice one for the good of the whole. You've seen what he's capable of. You should understand how important it was to gain the trust of the Macronesian government; of Bourne. My superiors agreed with my assessment."

Lucas felt sick. The very people he'd trusted with his life – the UEO – _knew_ he was a prisoner and were _never_ planning on rescuing him. Wasn't there an understanding that they'd never leave a soldier behind? Lucas glanced away and tried to steady his breath. He could feel the tightness increasing gin his chest, despite the steroids and antibiotics given him by the doctor. He was angry and so close to just yelling at the man who'd willingly given him to the Macronesians.

Harrington seemed to sense that Lucas needed a moment to regroup, and waited for him to turn back.

"So what made you change your mind? I'm sure you would've been a lot more successful if you'd stayed." Lucas spat out, although he knew the answer. Harrington had seen something that was worth much more to the UEO than protecting his position as a spy.

"You saw the work they were doing on biochemical weapons, Lucas. You know how devastating that could be if they managed to use them."

Lucas could not suppress a small smug smirk. "About that. It should take them a while to figure out that I inserted a virus into their research program. If I got the chemistry right, they are going to have to start that little project again. From scratch."

Harrington raised an eyebrow in surprise, which did not go unnoticed. Lucas felt a slight bubble of pride with the realization that he'd done something that had both surprised and possibly impressed the older man.

"This shouldn't surprise me, should it?" Harrington did not wait for an answer. "I made the decision to abort my mission after I got your next assignment, Lucas. I can't share the details with you, but I can tell you that getting that information into the UEO's hands was much more important than staying in Bourne's good graces."

"You could have disappeared. Why did you even bother to get me out too? You could have just left me there to rot."

"If I'd left you there, Bourne would have found someone else to persuade you to work on this project. Maybe even Freeman. I needed you out of there - alive."

The unspoken words hung in the air: he could have just killed Lucas himself. Bourne would never have been able to get him to work on that project if he wasn't alive.

"I felt guilty, Lucas."

"For faking my death? Or for holding me prisoner and beating the crap out of me?" Lucas could not keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Harrington stared directly at Lucas, unfazed by his anger. "Or perhaps it was because I was expecting a 30 year old UEO officer, not a stubborn teenager." The older man dropped his voice and looked away. "Mostly, I just felt guilty because of what you mean to my father, Kiddo."

For the briefest of moments, Lucas was confused. He opened his mouth to question Harrington, but realization set in before he could speak. _Kiddo_. He'd found the man familiar when they'd first met face to face, and he'd mistakenly thought Harrington was the captain when he'd been half-conscious.

"Lucas, I am.."

"Robert Bridger." Lucas finished the sentence for him. He knew immediately who was there next to him – who'd held him prisoner for over two weeks. Captain Bridger's son – the man whose death had sent Nathan Bridger into seclusion – was alive and responsible for Lucas' own personal hell. He felt the blood drain from his face and his body temperature start to drop. His vision began to tunnel slightly as his breath quickened. He closed his eyes, willing himself to regain control. Once the initial shock had worn off, he opened his eyes and addressed the long-dead man. "Does the captain – I mean your father – know you're alive?" He almost didn't want to know that answer. On one hand, if he _was_ aware, it meant that the captain had been keeping yet another secret from him. If he didn't know, then surely he needed to know?"

Harrington looked at his hands, resting on his knees, and let out a sigh. "No. After I was declared dead and started working for the Agency, I had to give up any ties to family or friends. I couldn't even contact him when my mother died. It was one of many sacrifices I had to make for my country."

"Are you going to tell him now that you're out of Macronesia? What about Michael? Don't you want him to know that you're alive?"

Harrington looked up at Lucas, confused. "Michael?"

"Your son. He's been living with Captain Bridger since we got back from…" He stopped and corrected himself. "since we got back."

"My son? I don't have a son." The older man stood up and started to pace – clearly confused.

"You do. I've seen him. He's six, I think." Lucas watched as Harrington obviously tried to figure out how he had a son.

"Six." Harrington paused. He raised his head to look up, but it was clear to Lucas that he wasn't looking at anything in particular within the room. He let out a sigh, and returned to the chair next to the bed. "Six. Marie. God. I didn't even know she was pregnant. Is she with my father as well?"

"No. At least I don't think so. The last I heard was that the captain had Michael because his mother had left him at an embassy in Switzerland. Or maybe it was Brussels? I can't remember. The captain was going to keep looking for both you and your wife."

"She wasn't my wife. I met Marie a number of years ago. She was a French physicist working in Australia, before it became part of Macronesia. She was working on a classified project for the government and became nervous. I helped her get out of the country and back to Europe before they could find out that she was gone." He paused, rubbing his forehead – uncharacteristically ruffled. "I have a kid. I have a son."

Lucas gave the older man a sympathetic look. He could only imagine what Harrington was thinking. In a few minutes, he'd gained a son who was living with a father who thought he was dead. "I think you should tell them that you're alive. I know that if I were Michael, I'd want to grow up knowing my dad." He looked away from Harrington who was now staring directly at Lucas. He wasn't sure how much digging the man had done into his past, but it probably wouldn't have been very difficult to find out about his strained relationship with his own father.

Harrington gave him a weak smile. "I'll take that into consideration. Right now, I just need time to think. It's not every day you find out that you have a son." He ran his hand through his hair and gave a somewhat nervous chuckle. Lucas found this very uncharacteristic of the older man. In the time that he'd known him, Harrington had never appeared anything less than completely composed and in control.

"In the meanwhile, I'd appreciate your discretion regarding both my identity and my role within the UEO." With that, the older man stood to leave. "I'm sorry you had to go through this, Lucas. But I'll tell you the same thing I told your captain. You're tough, a lot tougher than most people will give you credit for, and you're smart. The UEO needs to understand that you're an important commodity and there are plenty of other confederations that would love to get their hands on you for your skills."

Lucas didn't respond. There wasn't much to say. Part of him was still very upset with what Harrington had done to him, and he was still extremely angry with the UEO. But most of all, he was angry at Harrington for not _wanting_ to speak to the captain – to tell him he was alive. He could not understand why Harrington would not want to tell his father that he was alive and currently on his way back to the continental United States. Even though Lucas had a strained relationship with his own father, he'd loved him. If Lawrence were still alive, Lucas wouldn't hesitate to call and tell him that he was alive and well. He wouldn't want his father to suffer for no reason. He felt overwhelmingly sorry for Captain Bridger and his wife. They had mourned the loss of their son, who had willingly chosen not to tell them of his survival.

He was left alone to think about everything that Harrington – it didn't feel right calling him Robert – had told him and felt the overwhelming urge to get out of that room – out of that bed. The silence was disconcerting and it made him think of all the time he'd spent alone in that prison cell. He wanted – no, needed – to get out of there fast. He didn't really know where he was going to go. Not his quarters. That would be empty too. Certainly not the mess, there would be too many people there and they'd probably just stare or send him back to Med Bay. Darwin. He'd go and visit his friend at the moon pool.

Lucas reached over to stop the flow of fluids through the IV and pulled the line out of his hand. With slow, halting movements, he pulled the blankets back and slid his legs over the edge the bed. He grunted as his ribs and lungs protested the movement, but he pushed himself to continue until his feet touched the floor. He was somewhat surprised at how weak his legs felt, despite the improvement in his overall heath in the last 24 hours. Using the bed, chair and then wall for support, Lucas made his way slowly out of his assigned recovery room and towards the main corridor in the distance. He had to stop and rest every few feet, letting his lungs adjust. It didn't take long for Lucas to feel out of breath as he struggled to keep moving.

"Ensign! What are you doing out of bed?"

Lucas jumped in surprise at the loud voice behind him, and slowly turned to face Dr. Perry. She looked both surprised and annoyed.

"Going for a walk?" He knew she was going to make him head back to bed, regardless of his excuse.

In a few long strides, the doctor managed to close the gap between them – a distance it had taken him considerably more time and energy to cover a short while earlier. She firmly grasped his upper arm and elbow, and led him back to his bed. "You are to stay in your bed, until I tell you otherwise, is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am" he mumbled, too tired to resist.

"Lucas, your body is exhausted, fighting an infection, and your lungs are severely compromised from pneumonia. You _need_ to rest, regardless of how bored or good you feel at the moment. Until I'm convinced that you can walk out of here to your quarters without assistance, you will remain in bed. That is an order, Ensign."

He accepted her assistance in climbing back onto the bed, visibly exhausted by the futile attempt to escape Med Bay. He lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes as Dr. Perry re-inserted the IV line.

"Dr. Perry?"

"Yes?"

"Is there any way you can get me access to a vidlink from here?"

"I think that can be arranged." Dr. Perry smiled at Lucas. "Just don't let me catch you out of bed again."

Lucas felt the weight of fatigue press against his eyes and he struggled to stay awake. His conversation with Harrington, and the subsequent walk down the hall, had taken a lot more out of him than he wanted to admit. He hadn't intended on calling Captain Bridger this soon. He'd wanted more time to recover and to think about what he wanted to say. He also really wanted to do it face-to-face and not over a vidlink. However, he couldn't deny the fact that he really _needed_ to speak to the man – for comfort, reassurance, and most of all, to apologize. He knew he'd hurt Captain Bridger; they'd hurt each other. The last time they'd spoken – during the Banaba mission – neither of them had kind words for each other. Their relationship had been strained, and Lucas had thought it damaged beyond repair. Now, he wanted nothing more than to fix it. He needed the captain to understand, but even if he didn't, he needed his support now more than ever. Resolved to make the first step towards reconciling with Captain Bridger, Lucas felt some sense of peace as he let sleep pull him back under.


	21. Chapter 20

**Author's Notes: _Deep breath....deep breath. You can do it. _**

**_Here we have the final full chapter. At least, this is the last chapter bringing closure to the story. There are two others after this (the epilogue and the missing "Death Letter") so keep reading until the very end. I can't believe I'm done. My heart is pounding and my hands are shaking as I grapple with the reality of the finality of this little note. If you love me (okay, if you just like this story), you'll take a moment to make one (or two or three) final last comment by hitting the "review" button. _**

**Chapter Twenty**

Lucas sat anxiously in the chair, staring at the monitor in front of him. Dr. Perry had been good on her word and had a vidlink brought into Med Bay. After a thorough check-up, she'd given in to his requests and allowed him to move out of the bed and into a chair for the call, with the strict order that he immediately return to bed afterwards. Lucas had begged Tony to bring him some clothes from his closet, and had been presented with a pair of jeans and one of his favorite old flannel shirts. Being out of the bed, and wearing something other than a medical gown, made him feel less like a patient and more like himself. Lonnie had come by earlier with a barber kit – as promised – and had managed to get his hair looking somewhat presentable. While it was a far cry from his signature long locks, he wasn't as appalled by the short hair as he expected to be. At least Lonnie didn't have to resort to shaving it all off in her attempt to repair the hack-job created by Freeman. Lucas gave an involuntary shudder. He didn't want to think about the man right now.

He nervously chewed on his lip and slowly reached for the keypad. He managed to get almost all the numbers in before aborting the call abruptly. Sighing, Lucas sat back in his seat and rubbed his eyes. Why was this so difficult? Captain Bridger had told him to call when he was ready. That meant that he _wanted_ to talk to Lucas; that they had a chance at making things right again. But in order to make that happen, he need to take the first step. He needed to make the call. Lucas took a deep breath and reached for the keypad again. This time, he entered all the numbers and sat back and waited.

The screen blinked to life and Lucas was greeted by the mischievous face of 6-year old, Michael Bridger.

"Hi." Michael cocked his head and stared at Lucas. "Who are you?"

"I'm Lucas. I met you a while ago, on the island. Is your grandfather there?"

"Oh, okay." The boy turned around and ran off-screen. Lucas could hear him yelling for the captain in the background, and he smiled. "Grandpa! It's for you!"

It wasn't long before a more familiar face came into focus. Lucas was shocked at how much Captain Bridger had aged in the few months since they'd last seen each other. The older man's hair and beard looked even greyer, and the wrinkles around his eyes more pronounced than he remembered. The captain's face lit up when he saw who was on the screen, and Lucas could not help but smile in response.

"Lucas!" He slipped into a seat and pulled himself up close to the monitor. "I was hoping you'd call me. How are you doing, kiddo?"

Lucas could almost feel Captain Bridger scrutinizing his appearance; his face full of concern, and he wasn't surprised. While Bridger had aged in the past few months, Lucas himself looked different too. "I'm okay, Captain. Better now that I'm home." He gave a small smile and unconsciously touched his hair.

"Do you want to talk about it? What they did to you?" Captain Bridger's voice was quiet and understanding. Even if he didn't have the details, Lucas could tell that he had an idea. You couldn't look at his gaunt pale face, the dark circles, without making basic assumptions.

"No." Lucas looked down at his hands. He was having a hard time containing the flood of emotion trying to escape. He was afraid that if he looked deeper into Bridger's eyes, he was sure to start crying. He couldn't do that. More than anything, he just wanted to throw his arms around the older man, and to feel himself enveloped in a tight hug.

"Hey, kiddo. Look at me." Bridger's voice was soft and compassionate, and Lucas raised his head in response. "It's okay. Just remember that I'm here for you when you do need to talk about it. Okay? I've been worried about you. We all have. When I thought you were dead…" Captain Bridger stopped, choked with emotion, before continuing. "When Commander Ford told me that you were dead, I didn't want to believe him. I couldn't believe I'd lost someone else I cared so much about. I can't even begin to explain how I feel now – knowing that you're okay."

Lucas wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand. He had wanted to hear that the captain cared about him. It was what he'd wanted to hear for a long time. "I'm so sorry, Captain. I'm sorry I disappointed you and made you angry. I'm sorry you had to read everything in that letter." He sniffed, attempting to hold back tears.

"I'm not. I'm _glad_ you wrote me that letter. I think you wrote a lot of things that needed to be said. I wish we could have talked about it in person, and that we didn't need these circumstances to bring it in the open, but I'm glad that we can talk about it now." Captain Bridger reached out towards the monitor, almost as though he could reach through it towards Lucas.

"I never thought you'd be so angry with me; so disappointed that I'd enlisted. I thought you'd be proud. I didn't have any other choice. Captain Hudson told me to get off the boat or sign up. You didn't ask me to come with you and it was the only way I could stay on _seaQuest_ with the rest of the crew. I didn't have anywhere else to go. I thought you'd understand." Lucas stared at Bridger, the hurt evident in his eyes, in his tone of voice. This was what he'd needed to get off of his chest for months. He wanted to know why the man he loved like a father had so easily abandoned him.

Bridger sighed and looked off into the distance for a moment, before returning his gaze to Lucas. His eyes were shiny with unshed tears and it was obvious that this topic caused him pain as well. "I'm so sorry, Lucas. I was selfish and completely consumed with the reality of having another child to raise - of starting over – and the possibility that Robert was alive. I never imagined that you would be put in the position to make that decision. I never thought that Oliver would actually throw you off of _seaQuest_." Captain Bridger paused, searching for the right words that could help bridge the gap between them. "If I _had_ known, you could be sure that I'd have welcomed you into my home with open arms. I wish you'd told me."

Lucas gave the Captain a sad smile. "Yeah, me too."

"I love you, kiddo. That will never change. I just never wanted to lose you. When I found out you had enlisted, I was scared that I'd lose you just like I lost Robert. I know. I didn't handle it very well. I was angry that you would even consider putting yourself at risk like that, of putting me in that same position again. I'm really sorry, Lucas." He shook his head, closing his eyes. "I just made it worse."

"I love you too, Captain." Lucas felt a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. The stress and anxiety of having disappointed someone so important to him, was no longer there. Captain Bridger had admitted he loved him, and he'd made a mistake, and that was all that mattered. Lucas shifted in his seat, and grimaced when his body reminded him that he was still not 100% healed. While he was feeling many times better than the day before, Dr. Perry had warned him that it could be weeks before he regained his strength. Captain Bridger noticed his change in expression and his face immediately reflected his own concern.

"Are you sure you're okay, Lucas? You honestly don't look very well."

"Yeah, well that's what happens when you're held prisoner for over two weeks," Lucas snapped, responding more to the discomfort than Bridger's comment. He immediately regretted his outburst. "I'm sorry, Captain. I didn't mean it like that." He sighed. "I'm just tired of feeling sore and weak and trapped in one place. I want to get up and move, but I just can't get very far right now."

"Jonathan told me what they did, Lucas. I can't even begin to imagine how you feel right now. Just remember that I'm here for you – anytime. Got it?" Captain Bridger gave Lucas a reassuring smile and then pointed to his head. "I see you finally got that scar you always wanted."

Lucas' hand instinctively went up to the mark on his forehead –visible evidence of the beating he'd received at Mason Freeman's hand. "I think I'd rather have a tattoo." He smiled at Bridger, pleased that the older man had remembered the conversation they'd had so many years before. "I figure it'll be hidden once my hair grows out again." His hand moved from his forehead back to his hair.

"I take it you didn't voluntarily sit down for a military cut then?"

Lucas raised his eyebrow in response. He didn't have to answer. Bridger chuckled. "I guess not."

In the background, behind Captain Bridger, Lucas could make out some movement. All of a sudden, a little blond head popped into view. Bridger pulled Michael in closer and kissed the top of his head, before whispering in his ear. Michael grinned and nodded. "Lucas, I have an idea. Can you come and visit us? We can go swimming and hiking and everything." The little boy gushed with the exuberance only a 6 year old could muster.

Lucas could do nothing but grin back. "I'd love to, but I don't know when. Sounds like fun though."

"Okay, bye!" Michael gave a quick wave and was off again.

Bridger laughed as he watched his grandson run out of the room. "He's helping me keep things in perspective these days. I don't know what I would have done without him; after Jonathan first called. I knew from the moment I saw his face that something was wrong. I'm just really glad you're okay, Lucas."

"Me too."

"I want you to come and stay with us for a while – the next time you get shore leave. That is, if you want to."

"I'd really like that, sir." Lucas smiled back. He really did want to see the island again; to spend time with Captain Bridger away from the reality of a world on the brink of war. Maybe, for that short period of time, he could pretend that everything was going to be okay.

"I know you are heading back to New Cape Quest. You can say no, but I would really like to be there when you reach port."

"Really?" Lucas was a little surprised. It had been a while since he'd had anyone meet him at the dock, although he couldn't really remember the last time he'd been given leave at all.

"Yes, really. Do you know your ETA?"

"Um, sometime tomorrow or the next day, I think." Lucas furrowed his brow, trying to remember who had told him they were heading to home port and when they were supposed to dock. He knew that Freeman was being handed over to Section Seven and was going to be held for questioning before being transported to a classified and well-secured location, and he knew that the UEO Security Council would want to question him. He just didn't know _when_ he was going to be summoned ashore. He had only been back on _seaQuest_ for two days and he'd spent most of that time sleeping on and off. "But I'm not sure if Dr. Perry will let me out of Med Bay, let alone off the boat right now."

"You're right about that." Lucas looked up to see that Dr. Perry had entered the room. She walked over to where he was sitting and placed herself in a position where Captain Bridger could see her as well. "Captain Bridger. It's nice to see you again."

"Dr. Perry, it's always a pleasure." Still addressing the doctor, Bridger pointed towards Lucas. "Any idea when he'll be released from your care?"

"Well, he's doing a lot better than I expected, but I'm not comfortable letting him off the boat right now. If he continues to improve at this rate, I can probably release him to his own quarters within the next two days. I suspect we'll be docked for a while and there's no reason why he can't have visitors onboard."

The captain grinned at both of them. "Good. I'll start making travel arrangements."

Lucas rubbed his eyes and tried to hide the fact that he was no longer feeling as alert as he had been just an hour before. This did not go unnoticed by Bridger or Dr. Perry.

"Time to return to bed, Ensign," the doctor stated, giving him a no-nonsense look. "Sorry Captain Bridger."

"Nothing to be sorry about, doctor." Bridger turned back to Lucas. "I'll see you in a few days, kiddo."

Before the captain could reach out to terminate the call, Lucas called out, "Captain?"

"Yes, Lucas?"

"Thanks."

"Anytime, kiddo. I'll call you tomorrow."

Lucas smiled as the image of Bridger flickered and disappeared, leaving the dark screen in front of him. He felt the doctor's hand on his arm, gently guiding him out of the seat, and he accepted her assistance in climbing back into the bed. As he closed his eyes, he felt a sense of calmness that he hadn't felt in months. He was still not at peace with the fact that Captain Bridger was completely unaware of his son's presence on the boat, and Harrington's hesitance to inform his father, but for the first time since he'd returned to _seaQuest_, he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

***

Two days later, Lucas found himself back in his personal quarters for the first time in weeks. He stared at the small room, taking in the familiar surroundings. Darwin was hovering within sight in the aquatube, as he had been since Lucas was first released from the medical wing. The dolphin had been waiting patiently for him in the nearest hallway with aquatube access, and then followed him back to his quarters. Lucas had yet to access the vocorder to speak with Darwin, but his constant presence was comfort enough. There would be plenty of time to catch up. Dr. Perry insisted that he remain limited to his quarters until she gave him the all-clear to wander _seaQuest_ at will. She was refusing to clear him for active duty for the immediate future, and he was relieved. While he was very happy to be home amongst his friends, he wasn't quite prepared for the stares and questions he was sure to get from the crew. Right now, he just wanted to enjoy his limited freedom. Of everyone, Tim and Tony seemed to sense that he just wasn't ready to talk about what had happened. He appreciated the fact that they were not going to push him and were willing to hang out and fill him in on what he'd missed.

Lucas stared at Tony's bunk. He was still tired and weak, and his body protested any excessive movement. As a result, Tony had insisted that they switch beds until Lucas regained his strength. Lucas was not going to argue. The thought of having to hoist himself up to the top bunk right now was not a pleasant one. He was just going to have to make sure they didn't have to resort to another poker game in order for him to get his bunk back from Piccolo when he _did_ feel better. If it weren't for Dr. Smith's subtle hint in that game so many years before, Lucas wasn't so sure he'd have won the right to the top bunk in the first place.

Lucas reached onto the desk for the portable vocorder and climbed onto the bottom bunk. He pushed himself far enough back that he could rest against the aquatube, but still see Darwin. He placed his hand on the cool surface – and invitation for the dolphin to do the same with his beak.

"Hey Darwin. It's good to see you again."

The vocorder sprang to life with the fast chatter picked up from the dolphin, before it's translation into English.

"Darwin happy to see Lucas. Darwin miss Lucas."

"I missed you too."

"Lucas light not dark. Darwin tell pod. Pod not listen to Darwin."

Lucas gave a short laugh. Over the course of the past two days, he'd heard from a number of people about what had transpired in his absence. He knew about the explosion and the discovery of "his" body – which had yet to be positively identified – and how Darwin had refused to believe that he was dead. He wasn't surprised. Of course they wouldn't believe a dolphin. All evidence pointed to the reality that he was dead. Why would they have any reason to believe Darwin?

"Well, you were right, Darwin. Maybe they'll listen to you next time."

"Bridger listen. Lucas listen."

"Yeah, well we weren't here, were we." Lucas was about to open his mouth to say something else, when he heard the thud of a knock at his door. He peered out from the bottom bunk to see Tim's head in the glass window above the door.

"Come in. It's open."

The door opened slowly and in contrast to Tony's usual leap from the top of the stairs, Tim descended them one at a time.

"I went to see you in Med Bay. I didn't know they were going to release you so soon."

"Yeah. I finally convinced Dr. Perry that being limited to my quarters was just as effective as keeping me trapped there."

Tim pulled up the desk chair and sat down facing Lucas. "It could be worse, you know. If Dr. Westphalen were still here, she'd probably handcuff you to the bed to prevent you from wandering around the boat."

They grinned at each other. The former _seaQuest_ doctor was one of the toughest women they'd ever met. She could make a career soldier quiver in his boots with one threatening look.

Lucas chuckled at the thought. "Yeah, I guess it's a good thing that Dr. Perry doesn't know me as well as Dr. Westphalen did. I wouldn't doubt her ability to put some sort of GPS tracking device on me to ensure that I stayed put."

"I'm pretty sure that if Ford or Lonnie, or anyone else caught you outside of your quarters right now, you'd be sent straight back to Med Bay. Everyone's still in a bit of shock. We're happy you're back, Lucas, and don't want to lose you again."

The lightheartedness of reminiscing about their first tour and the tenacious Kristen Westphalen had been replaced by the somber reality of the present day.

"I heard what you did, Tim, and I wanted to say thanks." Lucas stared at his friend who was looking slightly confused.

"What I did?"

"You didn't believe I was dead. Everyone else did, but you managed to convince Commander Ford and Captain Hudson to talk to McGath."

"Oh," Tim blushed sheepishly. "It was nothing. Didn't get us anywhere anyway."

"Maybe, maybe not, but it means a lot to me." Lucas stared at his hands as he wrung them in his lap, before looking back up. He meant what he said. It was a comfort to know that someone had held out some hope; was willing to keep pushing for the truth. If Harrington hadn't had a change in plans, and the entire UEO believed him to be dead, there was no chance he'd ever have been rescued. He was just relieved that things had turned out differently.

"I also wanted to thank you for giving Captain Bridger the letter – even though you thought I might still be alive."

"I almost didn't give it to him. I wasn't sure if it would make things worse." Tim picked at some imaginary lint on his pants. "Have you spoken to him since you got back?"

"Yeah. A couple of times." Lucas gave Tim a genuine smile as he thought back to the initial call with Captain Bridger and the one they'd had just yesterday. He knew that the circumstances for their reconciliation were not ideal, but he was thankful for the opportunity to fix what had been broken. "I was scared that he would be angry with me, for what I wrote. But he wasn't. Things aren't back to the way they were, but it's getting better. He's going to be here tomorrow."

"Really? "

"He's supposed to be arriving tomorrow, to escort me to the briefing. Dr. Perry refused to let me off the boat without some sort of babysitter." He grinned at Tim. "I'm just glad I don't have to go with Hudson."

They'd reached port early the previous morning and _seaQuest_ was currently maintaining position until they received word from HQ. Lucas had been visited in Med Bay by the captain, who had informed him of the official next steps. Harrington and a small security detail from Section Seven would escort Mason Freeman to a secure location onshore. Harrington would then provide the UEO Security Council with his account of the events leading up to Lucas' abduction, the time he was held captive, and their escape from Macronesia. He would then attend a debriefing with his Agency to provide any intelligence on the Macronesian Alliance, and President Bourne in particular, which he felt was of importance to the UEO confederations.

Likewise, Lucas had been ordered to HQ immediately to provide his account to the Council. However, unlike Harrington, Hudson had informed Lucas that he was also to undergo a mandatory psychological evaluation by a UEO psychiatrist before he could return to active duty on _seaQuest_. On a positive note, Hudson had granted him two weeks of R&R to become effective after he'd fulfilled his duties onshore, and most of the crew had put in shore leave rotation to make up for their aborted leave several weeks prior.

"Hey Tim, since Hudson's approved shore leave, are you getting off the boat anytime soon?"

"Finally. I'm scheduled for a week starting in a couple of days."

"You have any plans?"

"I'm thinking of slathering on the sunscreen and spending the next week soaking up as much sun as possible. You never know when Captain Hudson will let me off the boat again." Tim grinned at Lucas. "How about you? Do you have any plans?"

"Captain Bridger asked if I'd like to go to his island for a while. As long as Dr. Perry approves, and the UEO Council doesn't keep me in New Cape Quest, I'm going to go."

Lucas was almost certain that the doctor would not oppose this trip. Hudson had already approved his leave and in reality, it was just a matter of time before he and Bridger could head for the island. He was looking forward to getting away – to going someplace so far removed from his current reality. He thought that if he tried hard enough, he could probably convince himself that things were back to how they once were; even if it was only for two weeks.

Tim didn't need to respond. He knew that Lucas needed to get away and he needed to repair the relationship with Bridger. At that moment, the two of them were interrupted by Piccolo who opened the door with such force that it slammed against the wall.

"Anyone for a game of cards?" Piccolo practically bound down the stairs, exposing several others behind him: Commander Ford, Lonnie and Bill Sheerin, the ensign from engineering who had been one of the pallbearers at Lucas' funeral. Each of them came bringing a snack or beverage, and a grin on their face. Lucas smiled as they each found a place to sit and Tony started his infamous showy shuffling. It was almost like old times. Almost.


	22. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_For Immediate Release: August 1, 2032_

_Contact: Communications Officer Simon Percy_

_305-739-1728_

_Presumed Dead UEO Officer Found Alive_

_New Cape Quest, Florida – The UEO announced today that Ensign Lucas Wolenczak has been found alive on an emergency raft off the coast of Madagascar in the Indian Ocean. Wolenczak, presumed dead after a fire destroyed the research station he was working on, claims that he was abducted and held prisoner by a group claiming to be from the Macronesian Alliance._

_President Alexander Bourne has denied any responsibility. "The Macronesian government has no knowledge of Ensign Wolenczak's abduction or his subsequent rescue from neutral waters. If those responsible claimed to be from the Macronesian Alliance, we can only presume that they are members of one of the rebel groups. I will personally ensure these allegations will be investigated and all guilty parties will be brought into a court of law."_

_The UEO has accepted President Bourne's offer to assist in the investigation._

**_Author's Final Notes:_**

**_And this is where my story ends. I hope you don't mind that I've left some questions unanswered and others up to your imagination. There has been some suggestion of a follow-up story, but I'm going to wait until my creativity starts flowing again before I make a promise of a sequel. Even though this is the final nail in this story's coffin, it's not considered complete until I give you one final scene: where Bridger reads the infamous (and oft requested) "Death Letter." _**

**_I hope you've enjoyed reading this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I wanted to take the opportunity to thank each and everyone of you for reading the story. Special thanks go to the individuals who reviewed and commented on the chapters at least once. A SUPER special thanks goes to those of you who regularly made my day by providing feedback and comments on more than one chapter. And finally, I wanted to thank CFVici being a sounding board for ideas, providing some much needed constructive criticism and editing where editing was needed. You can also thank her for making me post chapters more frequently than I ever intended...._**

**_Anyway, thanks for the ride. _**


	23. Missing Scene: the Death Letter

**Death Letter missing scene: Chapter 11 Insert**

Nathan Bridger walked through the gardens of the UEO Officer's Club, until he came to a lone wooden bench amidst the trees. He was gripping the nondescript white envelop in both hands – his fingers almost white from the pressure – as he sat down. It was quiet here. While the mood had been serene and somber closer to the reception, he could still hear the murmurings of many conversations. Here, except for the sounds of birds and insects, and the slight rustling of leaves, it was silent. Here he could be alone with his grief. He knew that once he opened the envelop and read the final words Lucas had left for him; he would be unable to contain what little control he had over his emotions.

Before he lost his son, and later his wife, Nathan Bridger was very much the epitome of a Navy officer. He had been gunning for Admiral before the untimely death of Robert, and had been as tough a captain as he was expected to be. Many a time, he'd look death in the face and not flinched. He had the strength and conviction to keep a tight grip on his emotions, regardless of the situation.

After they'd lost Robert, Nathan had lost the part of himself that was able to compartmentalize his emotions. The loss was too painful to bury. The only option he and Carol had was to deal with their grief together; away from the constant attention of well-intentioned friends. While he had been persuaded to leave his island to captain the _seaQuest_ after Marilyn Stark's removal, he never had regained his ability to keep emotion out of his command. Regardless of how it looked for a seasoned officer in the UEO Navy, he thought it had only helped him gain the respect and support of both the military and science crew.

Now he found himself in a similar situation; grieving the loss of someone he loved like a son. This time, he didn't have Carol by his side. He did however, have Kristen Westphalen. Kristen, his CMO from the first tour, had proven to be a silent pillar of strength over the past few days. Bridger had taken it upon himself to contact the doctor personally to inform her of Lucas' death. She, like most of the crew, had grown to love and respect the cocky teenager, and Bridger didn't want her to have to hear read the news in the paper, or hear it from someone else. After returning from their ten year absence, Nathan had taken the first steps to contact Kristen to explain – as much as he could despite the classified status – their disappearance and the loss of Miguel and Wendy. This had opened the door for them to pick up their friendship after years of neglect, despite their location on opposite ends of the globe. It was this friendship he was leaning heavily on just to make it through the funeral and reception with as much strength as he could endure.

Alone for the first time in what felt like days, Nathan felt as though he could let go; just a little. With trembling hands, he broke the seal of the envelop and pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of paper. He closed his eyes briefly, the image of Lucas real enough to almost touch. Nathan smoothed the paper out on his thighs and started reading:

_Captain,_

_I guess if you're reading this, you were right and I was never cut out for the Navy. I never really thought about my mortality when I enlisted. I didn't really think I could die doing this job; until we lost Brody. After he died, all I could think of was "what if I didn't come back?" I've been thinking about it a lot, and I don't want to die before I get a chance to tell you why I enlisted. I wanted to explain myself so that maybe you could understand; so that you'd stop being disappointed in me. I never wanted to let you down. Of all people, you're the one person whose opinions matter the most to me. All I ever wanted was for you to be proud of me. _

_When I first came on board _seaQuest_, I thought I was going to hate it. Being trapped in such a small space with so many adults, was never my idea of how I wanted to spend my teenage years. I was angry and upset with my parents and with the UEO for agreeing to take me. Most of all, I was really hurt that my parents would just abandon me like that. They never asked me what I wanted. They just told me it would be a great opportunity, a learning experience. I hate to admit it, but they were right. They didn't know it at the time, but by forcing me onto the boat, they gave me what they'd never been able to do before. I got a family and a home. My parents may have been too busy for me, but you always made time. When I needed reassurance, someone to tell me I was doing a good job – that I was appreciated – you and the rest of my friends were there for me. Most of all, __you__ were there for me. When I was being an annoying pain in the ass, you set me straight. When I was about to do something really stupid, you filled the role my own father was too busy for. You were the father I always wanted and needed. I miss that._

_After you gave _seaQuest_ to Hudson, he gave me two choices, sign up or get off the boat. I thought you'd understand why I chose to stay. I have no family, no friends, and no money upworld. To everyone else, I've been dead for ten years. They moved on. My college degree is worthless, my research is worthless, and my computer skills are so outdated that no one would hire me anyway. Where was I supposed to go? I had nothing. To me, there was no choice. I had to stay onboard. I had to stay with the only home I know – with the only family I have left._

_Since you left, things haven't have turned out so well for me. The world is not the same place we left behind. In that small instance, everything changed. I thought that staying on _seaQuest_ as part of the crew would be the best choice – something I knew and understood. I was wrong. Hudson hates me, the world is violent and dangerous, and I'm tired. I haven't seen the natural sun in months and I have a feeling I'm never going to get on solid ground again. Despite being surrounded by hundreds of people, I'm lonely. I don't belong here and I don't belong upworld either. I'm constantly being reminded of the years I've lost, and I want them back. _

_I'll admit it. I'm angry - with the world, with myself, and with you. I understand why you left. I really do. You have a little boy to look after and a son to look for. But I thought that maybe you'd want me to come with you too. I would have; in a heartbeat. I thought you loved me like a son almost as much as I love you like a father. I guess I was wrong. You never felt the same way. You didn't even ask me what I was going to do. You just announced that you were leaving; going back to your island with Michael, and you didn't think twice about leaving me behind. That hurt. _

_When you returned to _seaQuest_ to deal with that deadly pathogen, I really thought you'd be proud of me. That I took some responsibility, matured, and joined the Navy. I wasn't prepared for you to be so upset. You were disgusted in me – in my decision. I never thought that would be possible. And then, during and after Banaba, you didn't even seem to be able to look me in the eye. I was so angry with you; for the work you did on that G.E.L.F project, for not being completely honest with me, and most of all, for being angry with me. I thought that everything was lost between us. I don't want that to be true, but we haven't spoken since and I'm not sure if we'll ever be able to get past that. Maybe we are just both too stubborn to make the first step._

_I'm trying really hard to be a good soldier, at least until my enlistment runs its course and I figure out what I want to do next, but I'm not sure I'm going to make it that long. I guess if you're reading this, then I didn't make it anyway. I never wanted to leave things between us unresolved and I'm sorry I had to explain myself in a letter. I always hoped I'd get a chance to tell you all of this in person. I often think about calling you, speaking to you face-to-face, but I guess, in the end I'm just a coward. _

_Sorry, I'm rambling now. Since I'm probably dead, I guess the one thing that I want you to know is that I love you. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Those first two tours were the happiest and most exciting years of my life and I'd never wish them away. Hopefully, when you think of me, you'll think about those years. Not what happened after we got back._

_I just want to say that Michael is very lucky to have you in his life, just like I was lucky to have you in mine. _

_Lucas._

Nathan sat back against the hard wooden bench and closed his eyes. He didn't bother to wipe away the tears that were coursing down his cheeks. Rather, he let them flow. The rawness of Lucas' emotions while writing the letter, were too hard to deny. The boy was angry at him, at life, and it was _his_ fault. When he'd allowed Lucas to stay on board _seaQuest_, and had taken him under his wing, he'd very willingly encouraged a bond to develop between the two of them. He'd embraced the opportunity to be a father again, to be needed again. And then, when Michael had come into his life, he had just abandoned Lucas. He hadn't thought that the young man would need him as much as the little boy. Lucas was right. Bridger hadn't even thought to ask Lucas if he wanted to go with him. In retrospect, Lucas probably still would have opted to stay with the boat – as a civilian – but none of them even considered that Hudson wouldn't leave that an option.

Bridger had been angry with Lucas when he learned he'd enlisted, but it wasn't really _at_ Lucas. It was at the situation. He had been angry that Lucas hadn't spoken to him first, before he made the decision. Even after he learned of the circumstances surrounding Lucas' decision, he still hadn't made any attempt to explain his own feelings to the boy. Instead, he let Lucas continue to think he was angry at him. He knew that he hadn't been fair. He knew that Lucas was hurting at the dissolution of their relationship. He just didn't really have any idea how much. He knew he should have at least attempted to make things right between the two of them. But now… now it was too late for both of them.

Captain Bridger passed his hand lovingly over the handwritten letter, smoothing out the wrinkles. He folded the paper and slipped it back into the envelop, being careful not smudge the ink with his tears. Bridger pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped the tears from his eyes, cheeks, and blew his nose. With a deep breath, he placed the letter in the inside breast pocket of his jacket, and stood to leave. Before he returned to the reception, he needed some time to clear his head, and regain some of his composure. He needed to be strong for Lucas' friends and crewmates. There would be time later to reread the letter and grieve in solitude. He glanced briefly in the direction of the reception hall, and then turned to walk through the garden.


End file.
